


Adept at handling confidential and/or sensitive information

by wtfkovah



Series: Sweater Vest Stories [13]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Office, Awkward Conversations, Boss/Employee Relationship, CEO Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Out of Character, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27454975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfkovah/pseuds/wtfkovah
Summary: Jihoon can't keep secrets.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: Sweater Vest Stories [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736101
Comments: 42
Kudos: 315





	Adept at handling confidential and/or sensitive information

“AHA!”

Jihoon clutches his loofah and screams, abruptly knocked from sleepy impulsiveness into actual mind-numbing panic when the shower curtain is ripped aside. His fight or flight instinct has never really had a chance to develop properly, so when faced with danger he mostly just screams bloody murder until said danger passes. At least _this_ time he manages to grab hold of the shower curtain when Seokmin pokes his head in, dragging it around himself like some sort of make-shift emergency toga.

“Seokmin, what the hell! You scared the shit out of me!”

“Whoops, sorry. My bad.” Seokmin grins, darting his eyes quickly from side to side, “I thought you were Seungcheol. The idea of walking in on him showering was too tempting to resist. I had to take my chance.”

Jihoon promptly shoves him out of the shower, pulling the curtain back over so he can finish rinsing off. When he pads back into his bedroom a few minutes later, nice and snug in his dressing gown, Seokmin’s standing in front of the closet, contemplating it like a math problem.

As Jihoon watches, he reaches for the handle slowly, then throws the door open with a triumphant “AHA!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, just to keep from laughing. “Oh my god, Seokmin, Seungcheol’s not here! He left early this morning for his apartment. He needed to fetch a fresh change of clothes. And honestly, after the way you've been ogling him all weekend, I'm not sure he'll ever come back.”

“Aww. But I thought we could all have breakfast together, and that he could be naked for it. I even got up extra early to whip up a batch of my famous red velvet pancakes.”

The fact that Seokmin looks genuinely disappointed is the funniest thing ever. Jihoon’s tempted to laugh, but it's never a good idea to actually encourage Seokmin’s unhealthy fascination with Seungcheol’s body. He compromises by snorting and swatting him with his towel.

“Well maybe you could wrap them up and I’ll take them to work with me. Seungcheol can eat them at his desk. He usually has his breakfast in the office anyway.”

“Really? You guys are seriously just _going_ back to work?” Seokmin grouses, flopping down onto the bed with a heavily dejected air.

“Of course,” Jihoon says absently, working his way around the room for a quick, albeit pointless, tidy.

For the first time in his entire life, his bedroom is a total disaster—with listing piles of clothes, heaps of abandoned plates and drawers haphazardly hanging open, giving the place that day-after-a-natural-disaster ambience. He can’t bring himself to care though, because he had more important things to do all weekend—like using Seungcheol as a blanket. 

“It _is_ Monday,” He says, trying to make the bed with Seokmin still on it, “What else would we be doing?”

Seokmin shrugs, looking around with clear interest and a just as obvious lack of judgment on the state of the place, “I dunno, I just figured you’d take some time off to _be_ together, you know. Maybe do some romantic shit.”

Jihoon laughs brightly as he steps over to the mirror and begins to towel his hair, “We’re planning something this weekend, and I’m supposed to stay over at his place tonight, but even if we didn’t, we’re together practically every day anyway. I spend more time with Seungcheol than anyone else I know.”

Seokmin waves a hand in a vague sort of way, “Yeah, but that’s all going to change now, isn’t it. Now that you can’t be his PA anymore, you’re going to have to make _time_ to be with each other.”

“What do you mean?” Jihoon asks, taken aback. “I’m still going to be his PA Seokmin—that’s not going to change just because we’re dating.”

“Really?” Seokmin’s brows gather and smooth out in a quick flicker of emotion, “Is that _allowed_?”

“Of course,” says Jihoon, laughing, uneasy, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Seokmin licks his lips, troubled. “I dunno, I figured there would be some pretty explicit fraternization policy in place, to discourage co-workers from dating. I mean, yeah, I know I don’t exactly have a lot of experience working in a corporate environment, but I know most corporations operate that way, to protect the company’s interests or image or whatever. I figure Seungcheol at least has to keep his dalliances _above board_.”

“There _is_ a fraternization policy, but it’s uhm, it’s not going to be a problem…” Jihoon trails off, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

From the tight expression on Seokmin face, he follows his meaning.

“Seriously? You’re keeping it a _secret_?”

Jihoon’s face heats uncomfortably, and it's suddenly difficult to meet Seokmin's eyes. He pads over to his wardrobe, simply to buy time, and pretends to busy himself with picking out his outfit for the day. He can hear Seokmin getting impatient behind him, and a moment later Seokmin’s hand edges around to snap the wardrobe shut.

“Jihoon— _please_ tell me you didn’t agree to keep your relationship with your boss a secret.”

Jihoon lets out an exasperated huff and whirls on Seokmin, “So what if I did? Why does it matter?”

Seokmin just gives him the patented _‘I can't believe I have to explain this’_ look and shakes his head, “Because Jihoon, you’ve been pining after this guy for _months_ , and now that you’re finally together, nobody can know about it? How can you not see how problematic that is? I can’t believe Seungcheol’s asking you to do this, it’s so…it’s fucking _shady_.”

“Hey, no—that’s not fair,” Jihoon gasps, alarmed at the suggestion and annoyed on Seungcheol’s behalf. “Seungcheol didn’t _ask_ me to do anything. He wanted to transfer me to another department actually, so we could be more open about our relationship, but I convinced him not to.”

Seokmin's expression softens, but now he just looks confused. “ _You_ …chose this?”

“Yes. I wanted to remain as his PA, and I couldn’t do that if everyone at work knew we were together." He cuts off Seokmin’s indignant sputter with a wave. “It was my choice, okay. I don’t want to work anywhere else Seokmin. I love my job, and I love working with Seungcheol and I don’t want that to change.”

Seokmin folds his arms over his chest and stares, at a complete loss for words apparently. He takes a breath and then doesn't seem to know what to do with it, other than breathe it all out again.

“I don’t think you’ve thought this through Hoonie.”

“Yes, I have,” Jihoon says, letting the stubborn weight of intent carry his words. “I’ve thought about it a lot and this is the best solution for both of us.”

Seokmin tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “Really? So how long do you intend to keep up the secrecy of your relationship? A few months, a few years? _Forever_?”

Seokmin’s gaze is serious and searching, and Jihoon can feel it boring into him, unearthing fears that he’d rather didn’t see the light of day.

“Well no, not _forever_.” He demurs with a twitch of one shoulder. “But for a little while, at least.”

“Until what? Seungcheol changes the fraternization policy? I’m pretty sure that’s not something he’s allowed to do—especially if he benefits from it. So unless he plans to step down or reallocate you, you’re basically going to be his dirty little secret, and I don’t think that’s fair on you Jihoonie. You deserve to have a boyfriend who can hold your hand and kiss you and take you out on dates without second guessing his every move.”

There's urgent sincerity in Seokmin's voice, and it's clear that in this moment at least, he believes what he's saying, believes it utterly. 

Slumping down on the bed, Jihoon rubs his hands over his face, trying to ignore the dark feeling of worry brewing in his stomach; like he'd inadvertently closed a door he hadn't meant to close.

It’s not that he likes the idea of keeping his new relationship a secret—far from it. In a perfect world, he would keep his job as Seungcheol’s PA and everyone he knows would know they were dating, and they’d be so happy for him. Maybe even a little jealous too? If that wasn’t possible, he’d entertained some vague notions about saying something to a few of his close friends at work, ones who could be trusted to keep a secret, even if he couldn't honestly imagine how that conversation would go beyond a chorus of _ASKLDGHFKHLSASKL?_

But this isn’t a perfect world, and he isn’t stupid enough to think he can have his Seungcheol cake and eat it, so he’d quickly decided that _nobody_ could know until it was okay for them to be together. Now he realises that opportunity might _never_ come. It might _never_ be okay to date his boss, and Seokmin is right—he’ll end up being Seungcheol’s dirty little secret _forever_.

The kicker is realising this is _exactly_ what Seungcheol had been trying to avoid, why he’d wanted to transfer him in the first place, but Jihoon had been too stubborn to understand at the time and naively dug his heels in.

The bed dips as Seokmin sits down beside him. “Aw, hey—look, I wasn’t trying to upset you, I just think you really need to reconsider this Hoonie. For _both_ your sakes. Keeping a relationship secret is not going to be easy. At some point, you’re going to want to share it with the world, and it’s going to frustrate you that you can’t.”

Jihoon's gaze drops down to the carpet, sullen. “It won’t matter as long as I can stay as Seungcheol’s PA.”

Seokmin makes a face at him. One that suggests he's not getting something important.

“Fine—but what are you going to do when people start finding out? And let’s face it Jihoon—people _are_ going to find out. You’ve got to be the shittiest liar I know, and that’s just when you’re lying about the small, insignificant stuff nobody cares about. I can’t imagine how you’re going to lie convincingly about something this _huge_.”

Jihoon pouts instead of admitting Seokmin might _actually_ have a point there—because he’d actually practiced how to lie over the weekend, practiced in the mirror and on his plushies, and even roped Seungcheol into teaching him how to lie (or as Seungcheol likes to call it—squeezing your way around the truth) and the general feedback was: his face is just _too_ expressive. Most people can see one of his lies coming from a mile away, because his emotions go haywire when he’s trying to be deceitful.

“I’ll just not put myself in a position where I have to lie,” Jihoon says, trying his best not to let frustration leak into his voice. “I can always deflect or change the topic. And it’s not like people are lining up to date me anyway, so there’s no reason for anyone to ask about my love life.”

Tilting his head, Seokmin eyes him speculatively for a moment, then reaches out to squeeze his shoulder.

“You can’t always rely on that Jihoon. If anything, that kind of behaviour makes you look even more suspicious. Someone is going to put two and two together eventually, and they’re going to want to know why you’ve got a hickey on your neck, or why your sweater vest is inside out or why you were screaming Seungcheol’s name in the middle of the day—"

“Oh god, Seokmin—no. We will _not_ be having sex in the office,” Jihoon chokes out, scandalized.

Seokmin flashes a smile at him—a filthy knowing one—like he’s calling bullshit on that.

Jihoon crosses his arms over his chest, cheeks going a little hot. “And even if we did—not that I’m saying it’s an option or that we will—but if we _did_ decide to do something so reckless, it’s not like anyone will be able to hear us. His office is way up on the 36th floor.”

Seokmin snorts, and the sudden burst of sound is jarring in the quiet of the room. Jihoon doesn't turn his head, but he can picture the wry amusement on his friend’s face easily enough when Seokmin answers, “Hoonie, as your best friend, and housemate, and the guy who’s spent all weekend wearing earplugs and apologizing to the neighbours, trust me when I say _someone_ is going to hear you.”

Jihoon winces, cheeks turning sheepishly pink, “Oh no, you could _hear_ us?”

Shaking his head with exaggerated disapproval, Seokmin retorts, “I could hear _you_ , Jihoonie. For such a little guy, you are _shockingly_ loud in bed. And I mean _l-o-u-d.”_

“Oh no!”

Seokmin snorts again, dark amusement, then proceeds to do a mortifying demonstration of Jihoon’s ‘happy sex noises’ that has Jihoon sticking his fingers in his ears and screaming _alalalalala._

* * *

Time is playing tricks on Seungcheol.

Though they’d seen each other only a few hours ago, though they’d spent the entire _weekend_ together, it feels like _weeks_ since he's last seen Jihoon's sweet face and the way his eyes curve into a merry arch when he smiles, or heard his adorable little giggle. So yeah—maybe he arrives a little early at the office, and maybe he drives even crazier than usual, and maybe he gets pulled over and cautioned by the police. But he’s in love and in a relationship for the first time in years, and he thinks he’s permitted a little recklessness.

When he finally walks into the office, one speeding ticket richer, Jihoon’s already there, organising piles of folders on his desk. Seungcheol only has a moment to appreciate the view before Jihoon realises he’s not alone and meets his eyes nervously.

“Oh, uhm, good morning Mr Choi.”

“Ah...good morning,” Seungcheol pauses by the doorway, hesitating a little at the unusually _formal_ greeting.

Jihoon never addresses him so officially, not since his interview, not when it’s just the _two_ of them in the office. But Seungcheol’s doesn’t think that’s anything for him to worry about—his little Peanut is clearly just ramping up the professionalism, setting clear, safe-for-work boundaries between them. Like they’d discussed.

The flustered determination on the boy's face seems to say so at least. He’s still busy and matter-of-fact and cheerful as he potters around his desk, but a tremendous amount of nervous energy seems to radiate from him even as he steps over to Seungcheol’s desk with a stack of memos.

“You got a few messages from the Paris office this morning, and a call back request from Jisoo; he wanted your opinion on something, but he didn’t want to leave a message. The 11am managers meeting has been pushed back to 3.30pm due to some technical issues that need to be resolved first. Apparently there was a software update over the weekend, and now some of the computers are showing error messages and not loading probably. Both our computers are affected too, so I took the liberty of setting up your laptop instead and printing your schedule instead of emailing it. But don’t worry, I’ve already informed the IT department, and they promise to send someone up as soon as possible. And, oh—” Jihoon’s pauses, suddenly seeming to lose his sheen of formality as he produce something from a brown paper bag and deposits it on Seungcheol’s desk, “And I got you a cheddar cheese muffin to have with your morning latte. I hope you like it.”

Seungcheol’s empty stomach rumbles happily.

“Thank you Jihoon. That’s …very efficient of you.” He smiles, setting his briefcase down.

He shrugs out of his jacket, thinking— _so far, so good._ Despite the huge, dramatic shift in their relationship, Monday morning seems to be off to a pretty normal start. Except, when Seungcheol turns from hanging his jacket, he finds Jihoon still hovering by the desk, shifting his weight awkwardly, his expression both concerned and uncertain.

“Ah, something wrong?” Seungcheol breathes out, beginning to feel a little fidgety himself.

Jihoon lifts his head, finally meeting his gaze head on and— _ah, yes_ , there it is. That’s what Seungcheol drove twenty over the speed limit to see. That lovely sparkle, that something _warm_ , something that’s only for him.

Jihoon smiles nervously, scratching the back of his head. He appears to be having a bit of trouble with whatever he wants to say, and turns several shades of pink before he even gets his mouth open.

“No, uhm, it’s just, well—your tie is a little lopsided, and I didn’t know if I could, or _should_ , uhm—can I just—”

Then he steps closer mid-stutter and reaches up, loosening the knot of Seungcheol’s tie. Seungcheol lets him, barely stopping himself from putting his hands in his pockets, from doing anything with his hands really. He doesn't quite trust himself to not do anything _stupid_. But he manages to smile warmly as Jihoon adjusts the knot and the length of his tie, fussing over him in his usual sweet way.

When Jihoon steps back, smoothing his hands down Seungcheol’s chest, their gazes catch, and for a moment, they just stand there awkwardly, smiling at each other like a couple of dorks. It's the space that would surely be filled with a kiss if there wasn't a rule against such things, or maybe a boop on the nose, if Seungcheol wasn’t 100% certain that would just lead to kissing anyway.

But there _are_ rules now, like heaping piles of red tape over everything, so Seungcheol can only stare as the moment drags on and an enticing flush of colour warms Jihoon’s cheeks.

“So uh, how was your weekend?” He says, when he realizes that the silence has stretched on too long to be comfortable—both of them staring at each other for long, burningly awkward minutes, like they’re thinking of kissing the living daylights out of each other.

“Oh, it was uhm, it was…good.” Jihoon murmurs, delightfully flustered. 

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow teasingly, “ _Just_ good?”

Jihoon’s eyes turn hooded, and his voice takes on a distinctly dreamy quality. “It was amazing actually. Best weekend of my life.”

Something about the slightly breathless inflection in his voice makes a dizzying warmth crawl up Seungcheol's spine, and he’s stepping closer without realising it. “Glad to hear it. I had a pretty amazing weekend myself.”

Jihoon bites his lower lip, blushing and furiously shy.

It draws Seungcheol’s attention down to his mouth, which is too much of a distraction for Seungcheol at the best of times, never mind _now_ when it’s looking so pink and soft and kissable. It’s impossible not to kiss, but Seungcheol tries his hardest, resisting the urge for all of five seconds before he’s dipping his head down and kissing Jihoon anyway, wet and slow and lazy.

There’s a protesting murmur under his mouth, but Jihoon’s already raising his arms, winding them around Seungcheol's shoulders and falling into the kiss. Seungcheol can hazard a guess as to what Jihoon is thinking, and what Jihoon is thinking is probably— _so much for keeping things professional._

It’s barely been five minutes and already they can’t keep their hands off each other, but Seungcheol can’t bring himself to care because he can smell the soft peach scent of Jihoon’s hair, taste the mint burn of toothpaste on Jihoon’s tongue, and palm the angles of Jihoon's hips, and all in all, it's a fucking _excellent_ way to start a Monday. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Jihoon murmurs, his voice a huff against Seungcheol's chin, but it doesn’t seem like he really means it. He’s dragging his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, rubbing up against him in that hot, desperate way they seem to have when they’re together.

It’s a lot like being a teenager again, and Seungcheol thinks there’s something unbelievably hot about fooling around like this when he’s a long way from _being_ one.

“Sorry,” Seungcheol says automatically, though he _isn’t_ , and probably will never be. “I couldn’t help myself. I really missed you.”

Jihoon pulls back enough to look at him, expression softening to complete mush.

“I missed you too! I just didn’t want to say that because I thought you might think I was being too clingy. I know it’s only been three hours, but it felt like forever to me. I couldn’t wait to see you again.”

Seungcheol smiles crookedly, “Same. The moment I left your apartment, I wanted to go back. I thought about calling you a hundred times.”

“Aww—that’s so sweet,” Jihoon coos, reaching up to cup his face, and then they’re both going nuts for each other again, striving together and kissing hotly and it’s effortless, mindless, and perfect.

When Seungcheol slips a hand down to fondle Jihoon’s ass, he knows he’s on the verge of getting carried away, as if he hasn't gotten there already, and he groans simultaneous relief and frustration when Jihoon pushes at his chest, forces just enough space between them to break the kiss. Jihoon’s ass is still a delectable weight in his hands though, and his mouth still so distractingly close, and it takes a moment for Seungcheol to register that Jihoon is talking at all.

"Are you out of your mind?" Jihoon demands, eyes wide and searching from all of an inch away.

"Um?" is Seungcheol's articulate response.

Jihoon frowns at him, mouth scrunched in a way that manages to be both ridiculous and endearing, but he doesn't move to extricate himself from Seungcheol’s hold, “I really hope you don’t think this is a prelude to having hot sex in your office Seungcheol. You _know_ we can’t do that.”

Seungcheol’s pretty sure he hadn’t been thinking about that at all—but _now_ he sure as hell is.

“W-why not? Why can’t we? These windows are tinted.”

Jihoon’s still attempting a frown, but now he’s smoothing his hands up and down Seungcheol’s chest, a frustrating array of mixed messages if Seungcheol ever saw one.

“Because that would be very, very unprofessional Cheollie, and exactly the kind of thing we agreed _not_ to do during office hours. Even if it would be incredibly hot, and nobody could hear us, and the likelihood of anyone catching us is low—we shouldn’t. It would be very _bad_. Really hot—but _bad_.”

Those words, breathless with excitement, are as good as a hand on his dick.

“I know, I know. Just let me—” Seungcheol tries to press in closer, but Jihoon’s fists are in the way, keeping them apart.

“No.” Jihoon pouts, adopting his serious business face again, even though his flushed face and swollen lips just make Seungcheol achingly hard underneath his suit. “No hanky panky in the office—I don’t want us to get in trouble.”

Seungcheol smothers his disappointment. 

“Okay, yes, you’re absolutely right. I’m sorry, just—just let me have _one_ more kiss, please.” He says, and this time when he steps forward and puts his hands on Jihoon’s slim hips, he’s waiting for permission to kiss Jihoon again.

Jihoon’s still wearing his serious business face, which is, frankly, _hilarious_. But it only lasts a second before he’s blushing and leaning up on his tiptoes up to peck him sweetly on the lips.

Just once.

Just one sweet little kiss. That’s all.

But then Seungcheol’s cupping the back of his neck and bumping their noses together, a silent petition for one more. So he gets another kiss, and another, and they might very well pass out from lack of oxygen, if not for the fact that someone somewhere behind them, clears their throat _loudly_.

The sound has them jolting apart with a stunned gasp, and Seungcheol turns towards the door, instinctively braced for the worst, only to roll his eyes at the sight of Jeonghan, lounging in the doorway like he's been invited to be there.

“What did I tell you about knocking?”

Jeonghan waggles his brows, tongue pushing out his cheek on one side. “Oh, I knocked. I knocked _plenty_. But you both were obviously too busy making up for lost time. Who _knows_ what I would walked in on had I arrived just a little later.”

His smirk is knowing and filthy, and Seungcheol has the urge to wipe it off his face, preferably with _violence_.

Behind him, Jihoon makes a quiet, embarrassed noise and buries his face in his hands. Before Seungcheol can assure him that Jeonghan is a giant ass but would never rat on them, he stammers something about an errand he needs to complete and then actually runs out of the room, like his ass is on fire.

Jeonghan watches him scurry away with a smug little smirk, before levelling the same look at Seungcheol. “Well, well, well. Seems your ex-wife owes me fifty bucks.”

Seungcheol smiles dryly. “And what were the conditions of the bet, dare I ask?”

“She bet that you guys would be all over each other by the end of the day. I said you wouldn’t even last an hour. We made a bunch of other bets too, but well, we’ll just have to see how the day goes, won’t we.”

Seungcheol laughs grudgingly and waves him off. “Don’t waste your time. What you just interrupted there was merely an innocent good morning kiss. Jihoon and I have already established some ground rules, so we’ll be keeping it professional from now on.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes so hard it’s a surprise they don't just _stick_ there. “Right, _sure_. So you’re _not_ already planning to spend your lunch hour fucking him over your desk?”

Seungcheol feels his jawline grow hot as the flush spreads down his face, but he doesn't let himself look away. "Of course not, that—that would be completely inappropriate and reprehensible," he blusters, fully aware that he's not quite pulling it off, "I’ll be keeping my hands to myself for the rest of the day.”

A challenging spark lights in Jeonghan's eyes.

“Oh yeah? Wanna _bet_ on it?”

Seungcheol lets his glare answer for him instead of taking the bait.

He’s not a betting man, for one, and if he’s being _completely_ honest, he doesn’t like his chances either. He knows a losing hand when it is dealt and the idea of working in close quarters with Jihoon, without wanting to put his hands and lips and cock all over him… To call it a reach is too mild. More like an impossibility.

* * *

“It will only take a minute,” Seungkwan says, dragging Jihoon into his office despite his protests.

Jihoon isn’t even meant to be on the 12th floor, he’s meant to be on the 14th floor delivering a very urgent document, but he decided to take the scenic route today to kill some time. Monday has always been his least favourite day of the week, but not for all the _usual_ reasons people hate Mondays, but because it’s Seungcheol’s official _conference call day_.

The entire morning is spent watching Seungcheol pace the room like a caged lion, yelling at ‘idiots’ on loudspeaker, and everything from the way he curls his fingers around his coffee cup, to the small smiles he casts in Jihoon's direction every few minutes, to yes, even the way he yells at people, is incredibly sexy. Jihoon can never quite focus on his own work, or manage to look away for too long, and he thinks it’s better for his sanity to be wandering the corridors than sit quietly in the corner, fantasizing about crawling under his boss’ desk to suck his—

_Anyway_. 

He’s just trying to keep his fantasies and his professional associations separate, _while_ he still can.

“Hear me out—” Seungkwan begins, perching himself on the edge of the desk. He seems to be in a good mood, which is great, but he’s also smiling at Jihoon in a way that Jihoon knows immediately isn't going to make him happy.

“I know you said you weren’t looking to date at the moment, but I was hoping you’d make an exception this time. There’s this guy at my Pilates class who I think would be _perfect_ for you. His name is Shonwu and he’s a freelance photographer, and while I don’t think he’s _exactly_ your type, I do think he is really, really sweet. So I thought maybe you and him could join me an Vernon for like, a double date this Friday. We’ll go for dinner or drinks, and then I figured we can go for Karaoke after, so it can be a fun pressure free evening for you to get to know each other. And don’t worry, me and Vernon will be there the whole time, so you have someone else to talk to if you feel nervous. Whaddya say?”

Outwardly, Jihoon is careful to keep his face as blank as possible, even as he mentally begins to _shit a brick._ He honestly didn’t think he’d have to start lying so soon, and to Seungkwan of all people. It feels like a minor betrayal to lie to his closest work friend, especially when they guy’s gone to such effort to organise something for him, but how else is he supposed to get out of a double date?

There’s no other way around it. He’s going to have to… tell a lie ☹

“That sounds like a lot of fun Boo, but I can’t, sorry. I kind of already have plans this Friday.” He manages finally, getting his tongue unstuck.

“Oh,” Seungkwan’s smile dims a little, “But when I messaged you last Friday you said you _were_ free. That’s kind of why I went ahead and made plans for us.”

It’s a struggle to suppress a startled blush, but Jihoon forces a grin onto his face, hiding the sense of disorientation that overwhelms him.

“Ah, well, I _was_ free, but uh, something came up. My friend…Larry called and asked to meet up, and I haven’t really had a good catch up with him in ages, so I said yes. I’m uh, going over to his place for dinner. He’s cooking us… lobster.”

Seungkwan seems about to answer, but he suddenly pauses and frowns at Jihoon. “Wait a minute, don’t you have a _plushie_ called Larry the Lobster? I distinctly remember you telling me that once, because I thought it was hilarious.”

“Yeah, so?” Jihoon clears his throat nervously, scratching his nose. “They’re not related if that’s what you’re implying. Larry my friend and Larry my Plushie don’t even _know_ each other. They’re like, two completely separate friends that just happen to have the same name.”

Seungkwan studies him for a moment, as if evaluating his earnestness, or maybe just revaluating their friendship, then shakes his head, “ _Okay_ , what about Saturday then? I’m sure Shonwu wouldn’t mind re-scheduling. Saturday’s a better day for him anyway.”

For a terrifying moment, Jihoon’s brain skids to a stop, and he can't manage to say anything back.

Lying is so much easier when you’re practicing with your plushies. Plushies generally don’t ask follow-up questions or squint suspiciously when you take too long to answer. Plushies just believe everything you tell them. Plushies are awesome.

Why can’t Seungkwan be more like his plushies?

“I can’t, sorry, I—I have plans then too,” Jihoon says, struggling to keep the words even, “I’m going to the movies with my friend…Her name’s Berry. She’s an exchange student from France!” He winces. Awful.

Seungkwan’s brows comes together as he tilts his head to scrutinize Jihoon, gaze steady and cool, dissecting. It’s his _‘why are you lying to me’_ face and suddenly it all feels like one of those nightmares where Jihoon is trying to tell someone something vitally important but the person keeps misunderstanding him, except in reverse – Seungkwan is unerringly reading the subtext of Jihoon's flimsy excuses and is unwilling to let Jihoon _live_.

“Okay Jihoonie, what’s really going on? Why do you _really_ not want to come out with us on Friday? Is it because I’m trying to set you up with Shonwu, or is something else going on?”

Jihoon stares, unable to formulate a logical response. All he can hear is the chorus of ' _oh fuck_ ' echoing in his own head. Seungkwan _must_ read something in his face though. Something telling. Because his eyes widen microscopically, “Wait—are you _seeing_ someone Jihoonie?”

Jihoon considers laughing, denying it, but instead some impulse makes him twist his mouth ruefully.

“Kind of.” He admits, and immediately regrets giving even _that_ much away.

Dammit—he really is going to have to learn to lie for one of these day, and lie _properly_.

Sure enough, Seungkwan jumps all over it, and Jihoon almost feels bad about how genuinely _happy_ he is about the whole thing. His face splits open into one of those patented-Boo Seungkwan beaming grins and he squeals in delight, clapping his hands like a little boy.

“Aw Jihoonie, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Swallowing awkwardly, Jihoon says, “Well, it’s kind of a recent development. Like, very recent. Just this weekend in fact.”

“Go on then,” Seungkwan prompts, looking expectant. “Who is it?”

For a split-second, Jihoon considers just telling him. If there’s any of his co-workers he can tell about Seungcheol without eliciting an enormous overreaction, it’s probably Seungkwan. But it’s not exactly his secret alone, and he feels like he’s drawn some pretty solid lines between his home life and his work life, and now is probably not the time to blur those lines.

He squeezes a half-smile instead, and says, “I’m sorry Boo, I can’t tell you right now. I have to keep it secret for a little while.”

Seungkwan slaps a hand over his chest, a faux-wounded expression on his face. “Oh c’mon Jihoonie, I’m your best friend, you can tell me anything. You know I won’t judge you. Unless—are they _married_?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. There’s nothing stopping us from being together. Well, there is, but it’s nothing seedy. It’s more of a… _career_ related obstacle.”

Seungkwan blinks at him, only slightly surprised, “Career related, huh? So, does that mean it’s someone from _work_?”

Jihoon allows himself a small smile at this, and Seungkwan positively beams in response. 

“ _Really_? Oh my god, you have to tell me now. Please, please, I promise I won’t tell anyone. I won’t even tell _Vernon_.”

Jihoon’s chest goes tight with anxiety; Seungkwan’s curiosity is officially _piqued_ , and if Jihoon knows him at all, he won't let the conversation drop until he has an answer. Once again, Jihoon feels the urge to divulge everything to Seungkwan and swear him to secrecy; again, he stuffs the feeling down.

“I really can’t Seungkwan,” he sticks his fingers in the back of his hair, resorting to nervous habit. “I don’t think you’d believe me anyway. Or approve.”

Seungkwan eyebrows raise a fraction of an inch. “Oh god…It’s not Wen Junhui, is it?”

“What? No—” Jihoon tries to deny it, but Seungkwan’s already shaking his head and holding a hand up in that ‘spare me’ sort of way.

“I should have known this would happen. Vernon told me he’s held a torch for you for a while, and I can’t blame you for falling for his rakish charm. I mean, if he wasn’t such a pain in my ass, I would have been tempted myself. Not gonna lie, the guy _is_ pretty good looking, you could do worse. In fact—”

“It’s not Junhui.” Jihoon interjects before Seungkwan can press on, stubbornly oblivious.

“Okay then,” Seungkwan chews on his lower lip for a second, thinking. “Is it Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jihoon breaks into delighted laughter and shakes his head. “No, of course not. I like Mr Yoon, but not in _that_ way.”

Seungkwan doesn’t appear at all convinced; he squints at Jihoon, like he thinks Jihoon might be having a relationship he _himself_ doesn’t even know about.

“Are you _sure_? Mr Yoon’s always been very fond of you Jihoonie, stopping to chat to you in the corridor and ruffling your hair. I even heard him call you Peanut a few times, which is like, the cutest nickname ever. Guys only give cute nicknames like that to people they really like. Like—like-like.”

Jihoon flushes, adding embarrassment to his already brimming pool of emotions. “It’s not Jeonghan. And he didn’t give me that nickname either, I think he just _heard_ someone else say it and decided to use it too.”

Seungkwan frowns, like he thought he was on to a sure thing. The frown suddenly fractures a little, one eyebrow shifting up and pulling the corner of Seungkwan's mouth with it. “Oh wait, is it Mr Jeon?”

“Wonwoo? Seriously?” Jihoon pulls a face, “What gave you _that_ idea?”

Seungkwan shrugs, “Well, for starters, he does pspspspspspsp’s at you when you pass by his office, and a little birdie told me he has a picture of you sitting pride of place on his desk.”

“That’s not a picture of me, that’s a picture of his cat! Mr Fluffy McWhiskerson. Besides, I’m pretty sure him and Mingyu still have something going on. Didn’t you see them together at the Christmas party? They were all over each other.”

Seungkwan’s face falls for a moment, and then he perks back up. “Hong Jisoo! It’s got to be Mr Hong.”

Jihoon sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Okay, now you’re just _grasping_ at straws. Can you please stop trying to guess, _I can’t tell you_.”

Seungkwan tosses his hands up in the air, shaking his head. “Eugh, why not? I’ll figure it out eventually. I already know it’s someone from work, and it must someone pretty high up if you have to keep it all hush-hush. You’re only on close terms with a handful of senior staff, so if it’s not Mr Jeon or Mr Hong or Mr Yoon, that only really leaves—”

He cuts himself off there with a strangled gasp, straightening up in his seat, and when Jihoon lifts his head to look at him, his face is turning blotchy and red and—oh no, he must be having an allergic reaction, because it looks like he’s choking! He’s clutching at his tie with one hand and waving frantically with the other, gasping for breath as his lips move soundlessly.

“Seungkwan, are you okay? Do you need a glass of water?” Jihoon panics, at a loss of what to do.

Seungkwan rasps something at him, and Jihoon is doing a mental tally of how time he has to call for an ambulance before his friend chokes to death when Seungkwan finally manages something coherent: “Mr Choi? Choi Seungcheol _?”_

Panic swells up, like a ball of nerves forcing its way from Jihoon’s chest to his throat. He tightens his lips to keep it all inside, chokes his answer away to nothing, but he knows he's just damned himself. One pause all it takes, and Seungkwan's eyes go wide.

“Oh god, it’s true. You’re _blushing_.” Seungkwan gapes, pointing a finger at him, but not with the gleeful gossipy tone he usually gets when he gets wind of something juicy. He sounds genuinely shocked, and worried.

It takes Jihoon a few tries to speak. His throat feels frozen, throat clenched so tightly it’s hard to _breathe_. 

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about, I always blush.” he says, and hiccups a little, fuck. “Now, I _really_ have to get back to work. Seungcheol, I mean, uhm, Mr _Choi_ really needs this document delivered.”

But Seungkwan moves like a ninja, and gets to the door before Jihoon, blocking the exit with all his limbs.

“Oh no, I don’t think so Jihoonie. You can’t just drop half a bomb on me and walk out. I want the whole bomb. All of it! I need to know how a sweet little guy like you ends up with that colossal jerk like him.”

Jihoon can't tamp down the angry look that spreads across his face at those words.

“Seungcheol’s not a jerk! He’s the kindest, sweetest man in the world and I love him!” He snaps without thinking, clenching his jaw too late to censor himself.

Seungkwan’s eyes _bulge_ , like Jihoon’s just punched him in the gut, really hard, and Jihoon catches his jaw dropping from his peripheral vision even as he ducks his head.

The moment drags silent until Seungkwan finally breaks it, whispering hushed and harsh, "Christ Jihoonie—you’re actually serious. This isn’t just a work-place affair, you’re actually _with_ him?"

It takes him a long stretch of minutes to work up the nerve, but when Jihoon lifts his head to meet Seungkwan’s eyes there's no judgment there. Startled shock, oh yes, and plenty of it. But no judgment, and Jihoon feels the weight of burden slipping just enough to let him breathe.

“Yes, but please, _please_ don’t tell anyone Boo.” He pleads, half-strangled with desperation. “We have to keep it secret. If people find out, it will look like he’s taking advantage of me and I’ll be forced to move. I don’t want to be anyone else’s PA.”

Seungkwan makes a pacifying sound and grabs his arm, steering him over to the desk. They sit down on opposite sides. “I won’t, I promise. Your secret is safe with me. I just—I just really need to know how this happened. How did you… _how_?”

Jihoon lets out his breath and tries to regain his composure. _Play it cool, play it cool_ , _you don’t need to tell him everything—_ he tells himself, but it's like he's missing the gene for that today, and the undeniable truth just comes bubbling out of him.

To his credit, Seungkwan reacts much more sedately than Jihoon expects.

There are no loud disbelieving gasps or eyeballing or excited squeals. In fact, Seungkwan doesn’t chime in and interrupt him at all; he is the seated embodiment of rapt attention, mouth pursed and eyebrows drawn tight centre on his face as Jihoon babbles on. 

"—then I gave him my saddest soulful kitten eyes ever, and he said okay. That’s why I can’t tell anyone, I’m not allowed to remain as his PA if we’re dating." Jihoon finishes, having exceeded even his freakishly large lung capacity.

Seungkwan remains motionless for a moment, the look in his eyes introspective as he processes and tries to catch up to the curve ball Jihoon just threw.

Jihoon can't tell what he's thinking, but he doesn't think he’s _ever_ heard the guy go so long without saying _something_ , and he tries not to hyperventilate. The relief of finally sharing his secret is huge, but now that it’s beginning to seep out of him, he’s about five seconds away from passing out from worrying how his friend will react.

"Holy shit, Jihoon," Seungkwan finally says, blinking slowly. His fingers are interlaced, and Jihoon takes it as a good sign when they began to clasp and unclasp slowly, as if the frost his shocking revelation has blasted him with is thawing infinitesimally. "I mean, fuck, that’s _insane_."

"You don’t believe me?” Jihoon murmurs, both desperate to know and not to at the same time.

"Oh, no, I believe you.” Seungkwan laughs unexpectedly, suddenly himself again, or at least sounding like himself. “I mean, it just makes so much sense, you know. I used to always wonder why you thought the sun shone out of his ass when everyone said he was a jerk—I just figured you were trying to remain professional because you had to work closely with him. Now I know it’s because you had the hots for him all along.”

It’s Jihoon’s turn to laugh; unfortunately, the sound emerges as an embarrassingly high-pitched sound—not a giggle, really, but it makes Seungkwan's smile widen.

“I’ll admit I always found him attractive, but there’s so much more to him than that. He’s honestly the sweetest person I know Boo. I’m not just saying that. He’s done so many nice things for me, I haven’t even told you the half of it.”

“Oh, so there’s _more_?” Seungkwan waggles his eyebrows. By the end of the question a hint of not-quite revelation has snuck into his tone. “Oh wait—that was him with the staples too, wasn’t it? He was the one who planted them in that bitch’s car.”

Jihoon nods shakily, not sure if he should be sharing that particular piece of information.

Seungkwan doesn’t seem to care though—he just _swoons_.

"Oh wow, that’s….that’s so _romantic_.” He breathes, awed. “And that jerk Chul-Moo, did he have anything to do with that?”

Jihoon flushes a little guilty, “Yeah, that..that was him too. At least, that’s what Jeonghan told me. I haven’t actually had a chance to confront Seungcheol about it yet, and I don’t know if I should. On one hand, Chul-Moo _was_ a huge jerk and I’m glad that he’s gone, but I also don’t want anyone to lose their job because of me.”

Seungkwan appears to be thinking more. Jihoon can see the wheels turning as he pieces together the backstory.

"God, this just explains so much," he raves suddenly, brushing away the ghost of Chul-Moo. "I can’t believe I didn’t piece it all together before. I mean, who else could have gotten the authorisation to put a giant hello Kitty plushie in the middle of the lobby—of course it had to be him. And the Valentine’s _card_ , I remember now—he came down to the supply room on Valentine’s day to fetch some stuff, and I remember thinking at the time how weird it was that he’d come in person, when he could have just sent you. But now I know it’s because he was going to make _you_ a card.” He pauses to meet Jihoon eyes with a teasing look. “No _wonder_ you passed out twice.”

Jihoon breaks into a full grin at this. “I’m always passing out because of him. He makes me really happy.”

Seungkwan looks at him for a minute, searchingly, still grinning, and it makes Jihoon squirm against his will. If he’s not mistaken, Seungkwan’s giving him _the eye_ now, and Jihoon fears that embarrassing questions are about to follow.

He is, of course, 100% right.

“So, what’s he like? He’s hung, isn’t he? You don’t have to say it, I can tell. The way that guy struts around, so sure of himself—you can tell he’s got a _huge_ dick. I bet he’s into some freaky sex too—those strait-laced types usually are. He’s probably into hardcore bondage and watersports, and getting blown under the desk during important conference calls. Oh god, your office must look like a _crime scene_ if you waved a UV light over the place.”

That last accusation in particular has Jihoon flapping his hands wildly.

“Oh my god, no! We only got together over the weekend Boo, we haven’t done anything like that!”

Seungkwan looks at him, big eyes curious and frank. “Oh, c’mon Jihoonie, you really expect me to believe you spend all day in that office together, with all that privacy and all those _huge_ floor to ceiling windows and he hasn’t fucked you once over his desk yet?”

“It’s true, we haven’t done anything like that,” Jihoon says automatically, laughing, then reconsiders. “And we couldn’t even if we wanted to. We have to keep things professional at work, for the sake of both our jobs.”

“All right, fair enough,” Seungkwan concedes, palms out, settling back into his chair. As Jihoon moves to finally leave his office, he springs one last conversational ambush, “But I was right about his dick though, he’s hung isn’t he?”

Jihoon explodes into a helpless giggle in spite of himself.

* * *

Seungcheol can think of a hundred things he’d rather do than knuckle down and get some work done today, and 99 of those things happen to involve Jihoon in some perversely satisfying way. But the list of things he needs to do has piled up over the weekend, and work, well, work is the great compartmentalizing force of the universe.

Between back to back conference calls and budget reports, his morning passes in a blur, and with Jihoon off running errands, the tomb-like silence of the office makes it easy for Seungcheol to fall into a state of meditative efficiency. 

It isn’t until 11:30 that he has time to think about anything that isn’t a report in his hands or a pressing decision that needs to be made, so he decides to kick back for a bit and indulge in the not-so-secret pastime of all super successful, incredibly rich CEO’s.

A few rounds of ~~Golf~~ _Wormate_.

If the last 72 hours have taught him anything, it’s that luck is definitely on his side, so today _must_ be the day. Today is the day he _will_ become the biggest worm on the map.

He will! It’s written in the stars!

Sadly, he only manages to eat a slice of cake and two gummy bears before his cell buzzes across the desk. Seungcheol checks it absently, with every intention of keeping his eye on the game, only it’s Jisoo’s number that flashes on the screen—a reminder that he has more than one thing to worry about today.

For a moment, Seungcheol regards the caller ID with some trepidation and considers not picking up, but that seems to him a little like plugging a leak in a dam with chewing gum rather than getting to the heart of the problem.

“Yes Jisoo, what can I do for you?” He answers, trying to sound breezy. Trying _harder_ not to sound like he’s moving a small worm around his laptop screen.

“I sent you an email this morning, have you had a chance to read it?”

Seungcheol frowns uncertainly at his laptop, then reluctantly ends his game so he can click open his email browser. Even with most of the computers in the building down there’s still a shit ton of emails waiting to be actioned, and Jisoo’s is nestled among them. Seungcheol’s knows better than to open it though, because he can see the title of the file attached and can feel his blood pressure going up at the sight of _‘HR FRATERNIZATION POLICY’_

“No, my computer’s down at the moment,” He lies, twisting away from the screen. “And I left my laptop at home, so I haven’t had a chance to check any of my emails.”

He’s hoping against hope this might dissuade Jisoo from further conversation, but his HR manager is never so easily put off.

“Don’t you have access to a back-up laptop? I’m sure your lovely _assistant_ can fetch you one if you ask nicely.”

“I’ll read it later Jisoo—pretty busy right now.” Seungcheol drawls, managing to sound far more level-headed than he actually feels.

“Hmm.” Jisoo says dispassionately, before hanging up.

Seungcheol doesn’t even get a chance to reload his game before his cell is lighting up with another incoming call, one that he doesn’t have the luxury of ignoring.

“Guess what I’m doing.” Janna says without preamble.

Seungcheol sighs, extra loudly. “Shopping, lunching with your friends, desecrating a grave—I dunno Janna, anything’s possible with you.”

There's a pause and a bubbling noise, as if Janna is getting comfortable wherever she is—neck deep in one of those clay mud baths at the spa, Seungcheol imagines, in no hurry to get to the point of the conversation.

“I’m actually on your brother’s yacht, cruising the Amalfi Coast and sipping Mai Thai’s with Celia.”

“Wonderful,” Seungcheol doesn't ask when they all became acquainted with each other. He's actually pretty sure he doesn't want to know. “Is Seungmin there as well, or have you both already killed him and fed him to the sharks?”

“Oh, he’s here, and he’s very much alive. He’s doing a great job of keeping Celia and I very entertained,” Janna says, sounding very pleased with herself.

Seungcheol shudders to think _why_ , then quickly pushes the thought out of his head, to preserve his own mental wellbeing.

“Please Janna, spare me the details.”

There’s a wry snort over the line. “Oh, it’s nothing like that. At least, not for _me_ anyway. I can’t say the same for Celia though; surprisingly, her and your brother really seem to be hitting it off. They didn’t leave their hotel room at _all_ yesterday. Now they’re up on the deck sunbathing—though they’re using way too much tanning oil, if you know what I mean.”

Seungcheol doesn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice. “Sounds like a match made in hell. I don’t know who to feel more sorry for: you, my brother, or _me_ —for having to hear all about it.”

Janna gives a short sigh.

“Eugh, you’re never fun to gossip with, I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. Oh wait, now I remember—I’m disappointed with you Cheollie. Very disappointed, in fact. I spent _weeks_ planning you an amazing birthday party, _hours_ of my own personal time, and you still haven’t sent me a thank you present yet. Or a card even, you ungrateful shithead. The _least_ you could have done was call to tell me you had a good _time_ , but no. Not a single call all weekend long. Disgraceful.”

Seungcheol ignores the bitter tone—it's not undeserved under the circumstances. 

“Sorry, I was uh, a little _busy_. Had my phone switched off.”

Janna snorts in a way that manages to be insulted and interested at the same time. “Hmm, I see. Jihoonie’s phone was off all weekend too come to think of it. Was he… _with you_?” Her voice lilts upwards near the end, playful, inviting him to fill in the details.

Seungcheol sighs, almost laughing. “Yeah, he was busy too. I suppose you could say we were busy _together_.”

There is a long pause on the other end of the phone.

“Oh my god, you didn’t.”

Seungcheol lets his silence speak for itself, smiling like a man who isn’t quite so afraid to be in love anymore.

Janna doesn’t need the verbal confirmation anyway; she’s already put two and two together clearly, seeing as she’s currently _squealing_ in his ear. 

She must drop her cell-phone at some point, because a sudden loud clack rings through the earpiece, followed by a worrying _splash_. Seungcheol can hear her muffled cursing for a second before the call cuts.

Shrugging, he swipes the phone shut and sets it down. It rings _again_ , not a minute later, and keeps right on ringing no matter how pointedly Seungcheol ignores it. He glares at it in a fit of wormate-crazed annoyance, half tempted to send it hurtling out of the window.

Finally, he snaps it up and answers with the what-do-you-want voice he’s mastered over the years.

“It took you longer than usual to answer. Have I perhaps…interrupted something?” Jeonghan says, with a hint of amusement that Seungcheol really doesn't appreciate.

“For the last time Hannie—” Seungcheol stops, checks his temper, and lowers his voice, “I am not going to be bending Jihoon over my desk. Not today. Not ever. Stop making bets about my sex life. Jihoon’s not even _in_ the office right now, it’s just me.”

“Oh _really_? Then how come you sound so angry and breathless?”

Seungcheol mimes tearing at his hair, “Maybe because I’m trying to catch up with some very important work, but my PA is out of the office so I have to keep fielding calls from morons like _you_?”

Jeonghan exhales flat laughter. “ _Maybe_. Or is it because Jihoon’s under your desk, giving you a mind-blowing blow…oh, wait. I just saw Jihoon skipping down the corridor. Never mind.”

Seungcheol sets the phone down as the dial tone drones in his ear and makes a mental note to dock Jeonghan’s salary. If the guy’s got time to go around making bets about his sex life, he’s _clearly_ shirking his obligations. 

Speaking of which—Seungcheol reboots his game. 

He’s just usurped a much larger worm _and_ picked up a x10 booster when Jisoo, with his usual flair for choosing the worst possible moment, rings him on the intercom. “I just met Jihoon in the corridor and he said he already fetched you a backup laptop. Stop playing Wormate and read my email Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol has no choice but to rip the phone line out of the wall. It’s the only way he can fulfil his lifelong ambition of becoming the largest worm in peace.

* * *

With most of the computers at Choi Corp on the fritz _and_ with the intranet down for maintenance, Jihoon is literally rushed off his feet, running entirely on coffee and persistence as he delivers all the memos and documents that he would otherwise email.

It's not until lunch time that he actually has a moment to stop and breathe, to return to the office and speak more than two words to Seungcheol, whose keeping his cool surprisingly _well_ despite the obvious drop in productivity.

Jihoon would have expected him to be tearing his hair out by now, cussing up a storm at the apparent _incompetence_ of the IT department, but when he steps into the office to bring Seungcheol his lunch, he finds the man humming contently to himself, an easy smile on his face despite the fact that he’s hunched over an _obscene_ pile of paperwork.

The pile is, though, looking smaller than it had this morning, and Seungcheol has even borrowed some of Jihoon’s Hello Kitty Post-It notes to organise everything into nice, neat bundles.

Smiling to himself, Jihoon sets the Tupperware box down and rounds the desk to lower the blinds and drag Seungcheol away for some food. Seungcheol must really be in his element though, because he keeps right on working and still startles when Jihoon's hands grip his shoulders.

“Hey you, you seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Of course,” Seungcheol caps and sets down his pen, slouches in his chair and lets his head tip back to bump against Jihoon's chest. “Should I _not_ be?”

“I figured you’d be pretty cranky by now, what with the network down for so long.” Jihoon kneads the tense muscles beneath his hands—not a proper back rub—but good enough to earn him closed eyes and a low, appreciative groan. “I know it’s not going to be forever, but even I find working with all this paper pretty frustrating when I’m used to everything being _digitized_.”

Seungcheol shrugs affably, “These things happen, there’s no sense losing my rag over it. Besides, I kind of like working with paper. There’s something _nostalgic_ about it.” He grins, waving a hand in the direction of the stacks of folders, blueprints, and loose papers piled high on his table.

“Aw,” Jihoon coos, a fond smile spreading across his face. “Is that why you insist on buying a newspaper, instead of just reading the news online?”

As expected, Seungcheol's expression darkens considerably. It's the same look he gets when he’s forced to choose a password other than _password_ , or when he spots ‘Avocado toast’ on a menu, intense and determined and like he’d very much like to run someone over with his car.

“It’s a news- _paper_ , okay, the word itself implies it _should_ be printed. Not every form of information needs to be digitalized to appeal to everyone. Some things should be left as they are, and the newspaper is one of them. I like the feel of the paper in my hands, I like to turn the pages myself without accidentally clicking on a pop-up, and I like to be able to do the weekly crossword puzzle with a _real_ pen and not get inundated with notifications from Facebook and instant gram.”

Jihoon nods along, resisting the temptation to correct him. Normally he’d roll his eyes if anyone else ranted so spectacularly about something so _innocuous_. But a ranting Seungcheol is really kind of…cute. Kind of hot, too. That's what Jihoons dick seems to think, anyway.

“Oh, and another thing—”

“Okay Boomer, take it easy,” Jihoon cuts it smoothly, giving Seungcheol’s shoulders a little squeeze, “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Seungcheol tips his head to peer up into Jihoon face, “Wait, I’ve heard that word before. A waitress called me a that once—what does it _mean_?”

For a moment, all Jihoon can do is shrug, all his energy focused on not laughing. He doesn’t think Seungcheol would appreciate the real definition, so he tries to come up with something less _stirring_.

“It just means you’re a little…old-fashioned.”

Suspicion glints in Seungcheol’s expression. “Why do I get the feeling you’re sugar-coating it for me Peanut.”

Jihoon giggles then taps Seungcheol's shoulders and pulls his hands away, “C’mon, come have something to eat.”

Dragging the Tupperware box closer he clears some space on the desk and uncaps the lid, happy to note the Bento he’d prepared for Seungcheol is still nice and neatly presented. 

"What's all this, Peanut? Did you make me lunch?” Seungcheol says, amused, and then he presses himself along Jihoon's back, peering down at the Bento now, too.

Jihoon shouldn't, but he does — he leans back into the solid heat of Seungcheol, the strong lines of his chest, tips his head back so that it's resting on the crook of Seungcheol's shoulder. "I just thought you might enjoy a little more variety for lunch today. So I prepared a bento for you when I was prepping my own."

Seungcheol laughs appreciatively and nuzzles his throat, his powerful arms coming up to wrap around Jihoon's stomach, “Does this mean you’re going to join me?”

It takes every ounce of control Jihoon has not to tremble at the sensation of warm breath against his skin, to remove himself from Seungcheol’s arms and turn to face him. He feels the need to play the adult in this situation, as much for his own peace of mind as Seungcheol’s.

“I’d like to, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says, as calmly as he can under the circumstances. “I usually have my lunch in the canteen with Seungkwan and it would look suspicious if I suddenly didn’t show up. Besides, I doubt we could keep it professional if I stayed.”

“We could _try_ and see how it goes.” Seungcheol says, eyes lowered, sounding kind of sad. He has somehow gotten a hold of Jihoon's hand, and when his thumb starts brushing back and forth along his skin, Jihoon finds it suddenly difficult to focus.

“Could we though?” Jihoon asks, unable to quell the instinctive caution in his voice.

“No, I suppose not, but nobody has to _know_ ,” Seungcheol continues, matter-of-fact, looking down at their joined hands. 

Jihoon is looking at their hands now, too, distracted to the point that he barely hears his own murmured reply. All he can think, seeing his fingers intertwined with Seungcheol's, feeling the sweep of his callused fingertips over Jihoon’s smaller ones, is how perfect they fit together. How good those hands feel on his body, holding him down, smoothing over his skin, pinching his nipples. How amazing those fingers are when they press inside of him and stretch him open.

Jihoon hums appreciatively, getting warm all over just replaying their weekend together.

When Seungcheol leans over to brush his lips over his temple, it’s pure instinct to turn his head at the last second and offer his mouth instead. It’s a chaste kiss, really. There’s no tongue and it only lasts for a few seconds, but Jihoon moans and chases after Seungcheol’s lips when he pulls back, brings his free hand up to threads his fingers through Seungcheol’s hair, holding him in place.

Seungcheol stills, subsides, then dives back in with more force, pinning Jihoon’s hips to the desk as he takes the kiss deeper, devouring Jihoon’s mouth like he wants to….

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing! You guys finally got your shit together!”

They both jump, startled, at the sound of the cheery voice calling out. Jihoon's neck twinges from turning his head so fast, and his eyes widen as he spots Mingyu standing on the other side of the desk, watching them _make out_ apparently.

“Aw,” Mingyu says, dividing a look between them, except it’s not just two letters the way he pronounces it. It’s got about ten, and Mingyu’s voice rises alarmingly with each one.

Blushing furiously, Jihoon slowly extricates himself from Seungcheol’s arms, who’s glaring so balefully it’s a wonder he doesn’t set Mingyu on fire. 

Mingyu doesn’t appear to register any of their awkwardness, though, busy as he is hastening towards the desk, energetic and enthusiastic. Seungcheol follows his journey with a frown, then makes an unbecoming noise perilously close to 'meep' as Mingyu sweeps them both into a positively bone-crushing bear hug.

“I’m so happy for you guys. I honestly feel like I’ve been on this journey _with_ you. From Jihoon’s very first day I knew you guys had something special, and now you’re finally smoochin and what can I say—my skin is clear, my crops have been watered and—”

Seungcheol's glower gets exponentially angrier as he rattles on, then he executes an impressive ducking/dodging manoeuvre that has him sliding out of Mingyu’s death grip and twisting the guy’s arm behind his back.

“Ow, ow okay—I’ll stop,” Mingyu whines as he’s frogmarched towards the window and scaffold waiting beyond, “Just out of interest though, who made the first move? Was it you Seungcheol? It was, wasn’t it. I knew you wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer you sly dog. I could tell you were already head over heels for little Hoonie that day you chased me around the desk. How he didn’t pick up on your explosive jealousy is beyond me.”

Jihoon giggles, then blinks twice at the rush of red that rises up at the tips of Seungcheol’s ears.

“Wha—really?” He gasps. This is _news_.

Whatever Mingyu tries to say is lost under the sound of the window snapping shut in his face. Seungcheol draws the blinds too, in case he tries to spell it out on the window, but even with the office plunged into semi-darkness, that small, smouldering of embarrassment is still evident on Seungcheol’s face. 

“Is…is that true Cheollie? Were you really jealous of Mingyu?”

Seungcheol looks over at him and raises his eyebrows, earnest and annoyed. “Of course, I was—I thought he was eating your pie.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Seungcheol looks like he regrets them, which is nearly as disorienting as the words themselves.

Jihoon blinks, at a total loss, “Okay, you’ve lost me there. What has pie got to do with anything?”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows come back down again as he huffs out a short voiceless laugh. “Well, uh, this is going to sound stupid, but that day you brought in pie for everyone, I may have _slightly_ mistaken pie to mean something else, and I uhm, I got a little angry when I found out you were sharing your pie with everyone.”

Jihoon waits for more of an explanation. When it doesn't come, he asks, “What did you _think_ pie meant?”

“Your….your ass.” Seungcheol murmurs.

Jihoon laughs too loud, covers his mouth to muffle the sound and shakes his head side to side in vague disbelief. “Oh my god, _what_?”

Seungcheol's mouth turns down at the corners. 

“It’s really not all that funny Jihoon. In fact, it was very disturbing at the time. Granted, it seems ridiculous now, but the way everyone kept talking about your pie in mouth-watering detail, saying how orgasmic it was and how it made a mess of their pants, really didn’t help. Coupled with the fact you were playing office matchmaker at the time, and I kept overhearing you talk about _hooking_ up —it’s not my fault that my imagination went a little overboard. I thought everyone was abusing your pie, that the whole office was taking advantage of you and I wasn’t going to stand for it. That’s why I tried to throttle Mingyu, because he was so _brazen_ about asking for more pie. I only figured out I was way off when you brought out a slice of actual pie, and I was like—oh, it’s literal pie.”

Jihoon holds a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. He’s always known Seungcheol was pretty territorial. Hell, the guy gets pretty crabby when Jihoon dares to offer someone _else_ a cookie before him. Jihoon just never thought he _too_ would become part of that territory. But apparently he is, always has been, and if Seungcheol mistook Jihoon’s pie for, well— _that_ , it’s no wonder he’s been extra volatile around poor Mingyu.

“Oh my god. That’s why you said all that weird stuff about _cherishing_ my pie.”

Seungcheol ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “I was in love with you. I didn’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Jihoon sobers quickly, laughter drying up like that.

It's a shock to the system, because of all the times Jihoon’s thought Seungcheol’s shown any interest in him, he can’t remember it dating back that far, and he's half-giddy when he says: “Really? You—you liked-liked me since then?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it was love at first sweater vest,” Seungcheol says, a small, wistful smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “The first time you walked into my office, I thought I was hallucinating. I kept thinking, why is this kitten in my office? And why is it wearing a sweater vest? Then you stared yammering away and I got even more disturbed, because all I wanted to do was go fetch a box to take you home in. But uh, the whole pie incident really cemented it for me. I’d never been that jealous over anything in my life before. Never that _angry_. That’s how I knew you were the one—when I had to actively stop myself from punching anyone who mentioned your pie in the face.”

Jihoon’s chest squeezes, his ribs aching from the swell of so much emotion all in a fast, heady rush.

“You’re so cute Cheollie. The cutest.” He sighs, reaching over to tweak Seungcheol’s nose

For a moment, Seungcheol looks bewildered by the comment, then his mouth pulls into a rueful line as he shrugs, “Not cute enough to have _lunch_ with though.”

He’s attempting a pout of sorts, Jihoon thinks, which shouldn’t really be effective on him. It really shouldn’t. Nevertheless, Jihoon giggles at the pulse of affection that fills his chest.

“Well…maybe I’ll make an exception this time, if you promise to _behave_.” He says, quiet tease.

He's got no idea where the words came from. But they make Seungcheol smile—a slow, subtle grin that sets the air buzzing with unspoken potential.

The smile drops from his face just as slowly, a gradual drift to more sombre intent, and Jihoon barely breathes as Seungcheol takes a step further into his space—the only step there is left between them—and suddenly his breath is warm and immediate on Jihoon’s skin, his eyes hungry as they stare at his lips. His hands are gentle though, where they curl around Jihoon’s waist, and his mouth is soft and open and wet when he ducks his head for a kiss.

It's innocent enough to begin with, their lips moving softly, chastely for one, two heartbeats. Then when Seungcheol begins to pull away, Jihoon makes a protesting noise in the back of his throat and reaches for him on instinct, feels Seungcheol’s stubble scrape rough along his palms as he reels him back in and…they're off again! All over each other, kissing shamelessly, deeply, frantically, as if they’ve been building up to this moment all day.

Between one breath and the next, somehow Jihoon’s hands go from touching Seungcheol’s face to clutching wherever they can get a hold—fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt as he whimpers into the kiss.

Seungcheol hands are just as restless, needy pressure and eager heat, sliding over Jihoon’s arms and shoulders, sweeping down the length of his back. They spread wide over his lower spine, and press Jihoon’s hips closer in, and oh—oh.

Seungcheol is hard, Seungcheol is _really_ hard, and then so is Jihoon, and it’s impossible to work against each other standing up in the middle of the room but they try for several frustrating minutes anyway, pushing their hips together, trying to get closer.

Everything gets better, clumsier, hotter—but it’s nowhere near enough. Every layer of clothing standing between them is Jihoon’s sworn enemy, and he knows he has to switch tactics before they both end up with third degree friction burns. 

“Wait, wait—" Jihoon pulls back first, soothing the motion with small apologetic kisses along the way.

Seungcheol grunts something frustrated, pulling back just long enough to whisper, “I know, I know—I got carried away again. I’m sorry, it’s just all that talk about _pie_ made me really hungry and I—hey!”

Seungcheol’s eyes get big and round as he tumbles backwards, landing on the couch in an inelegant sprawl.

Jihoon doesn’t have the mental coherency to apologize for shoving him, he just has enough synapses firing to drop to his knees between those powerful thighs and start working on Seungcheol’s belt. The buckle clicks as the black leather slides free, and the button and zipper are an even easier obstacle to navigate, but then Seungcheol’s hand is closing around his, stilling it.

Seungcheol swallows thickly, staring down at him like he's mesmerized.

"Should—" He licks his lips. "Should we be doing this Peanut?"

Jihoon’s eyes slip shut just for a moment as a flush of embarrassment heats his cheeks. He knows— intellectually, this is a bad idea, or it should be — but his intellect is a distant voice in the background, muffled under a whole lot of _yes, yes, yes._

"Probably not," He murmurs, tracing a finger along the length of the open zip. Seungcheol’s already hard, straining against the inseam of dark dress pants—by the time Jihoon lifts his hand, Seungcheol’s cock is tenting his fly instead, a rigid jut that makes Jihoon salivate. “But I’ve been thinking about sucking your dick all day. It’s really distracting, and I don’t think I’ll be able to focus on work again until I get it out of my system. You…you don’t mind, do you?”

Seungcheol arches an eyebrow and slouches back into the couch cushions—a picture of studied, well-dressed, deserved arrogance.

“If you sucked my dick? Yes, of course I mind. What a terrible inconvenience to my day. How dare you make such a suggestion.”

Jihoon’s halfway through forming a sad pout when he realises Seungcheol was just being sarcastic.

Which is not nice—not nice at all. Jihoon was just trying to be polite, and Seungcheol shouldn’t be making fun of him for it. Honestly, he’s sorely tempted to skip off for lunch and leave Seungcheol there with his boxers tented out impressively in the gap of his open fly.

But then Seungcheol’s chuckling in that warm baritone that never fails to make him melt, and slipping the elastic down over his cock. It springs out, thick and flushed and already slick. The perfect weight along Jihoon's palm. The perfect silky texture when he wraps his fingers around the base to give it a measured stroke.

Their eyes lock as Seungcheol draws him close, into the space between parted knees, and guides him down with a hand at the nape of his neck, fingers agonizingly gentle as they brush absently through his hair.

From there it’s nothing at all to open his mouth and wrap his lips over the head in a lewd kiss, to work his tongue around the leaking tip in a deliberate, taunting swirl.

Seungcheol loses some of his smug veneer then; his breathing gets gratifyingly—flatteringly—stuttery, and his hand clenches tight in Jihoon’s hair.

Jihoon stares up at him through his lashes, cheeks burning and attention rapt, humming appreciatively as he bobs his head up and down. He loves watching Seungcheol unravel—how beautifully austere his expression is in arousal, the way he bites his lip with pleasure and twists his hips, little perfunctory attempts at gaining control. Mostly he’s thinking about how good Seungcheol’s cock feels in his mouth, big and hard, salt-bitter, _amazing_.

It’s weird, because sucking cock never used to be Jihoon’s favourite thing ever, and definitely not something he would offer spur of the moment just because he’s feeling horny. But now that it’s happening – now that it’s _Seungcheol’s_ cock is in his mouth, Seungcheol’s blunt head nudging the back of his throat and cutting off his air supply– he can’t remember why. Seungcheol’s cock feels incredible—in his mouth, in his hand, shoving into the tight space between his thighs—and Jihoon wants more if it any which we he can get it. 

Even at risk of choking, he has to lean in to take more, remembering to breathe through his nose only when his vision goes a little black and patchy. His eyes are tearing up, and his jaw _aches_ , and his lips feel swollen as they stretch around the impressive girth, but it’s getting easier with each lick, _better_ as he takes Seungcheol’s cock further and further down, one hand braced on his thigh and the other grasping along the base in time with every swallow.

“Jihoon, Jihoon—baby, I’m gonna—”

Jihoon pulls back a little, dimly aware of Seungcheol’s hand pushing back gently through his hair, skidding down a little messily to cup his jaw, where he must feel the hollowing of Jihoon’s cheek as he sucks. 

Seungcheol must be close if he’s trying to warn him, maybe seconds away if Jihoon is reading the gasps and shudders right, the way he’s lost control of his hips. Jihoon flicks his gaze up and sure enough, Seungcheol is struggling to keep his eyes open, and he’s wearing that slightly agonized expression of a person on the verge of orgasm.

Jihoon is tempted to let Seungcheol shoot down his throat, but there’s something more tempting about the idea of Seungcheol making a mess of him right now, so he pulls off with utterly embarrassing wet sound and replaces his mouth with his hand.

Looking up, he makes eye contact with Seungcheol, who is moaning more or less constantly now, the expression on his face an agreeable mixture of wonder, lust and gratitude.

“Are you close?” Jihoon asks him, pressing the tip of his tongue to Seungcheol's crown and licking a hard stripe over the head of his cock, fist continually pumping.

Seungcheol nods fast, too breathless for words.

“Great,” Jihoon smiles, before sucking the entire shaft into his mouth and pulling off with another pop. He gazes up at Seungcheol, blinking innocently. “When you do, do you think you could come all over my face? I’d really like that.”

“Oh fuck—” Seungcheol groans brokenly, hips jerking. His voice sounds strangled, like he doesn't have enough air or might never have enough.

Apparently Jihoon’s request is all it takes to push him over the edge, because he comes right then with a shout; his face contorting and his entire body shuddering as splashes of come hit Jihoon’s lips and cheeks and chin.

Jihoon’s surprised by how hard and long Seungcheol comes, and does his level best with hand and mouth to contain his orgasm, but he’s a mess by the time the last pulse of come paints his face, and his sweater vest fairs no better.

But hey—this is exactly the kind of situation a spare change of clothes and a private bathroom come in handy. Okay, maybe not _exactly_ the same situation Jihoon had in mind when he first stashed a spare set of clothes in the office, but it’s close.

Smiling happily, Jihoon licks a stripe up the underside of Seungcheol cock and swirls his tongue around the slick, salty head before sitting back. He doesn’t bother to wipe the mess from his face as he looks up into Seungcheol's eyes. Better to let himself be seen, to let Seungcheol appreciate the mess he's made of him. Judging by the way Seungcheol stares at him for a very long time, mouth hanging open and pupils dilated, the view is very much appreciated.

"That was…that was amazing. _You’re_ …you’re amazing." Seungcheol says, sliding one hand around to Jihoon's mouth, thumbing his lips lazily.

He’s sounding a little awed and breathless. Or more like, completely and totally _satisfied_.

Jihoon's chest glows hot at the praise and he tries not to preen to much as he starts putting himself together.

“Woah, hey, wait—we’re not finished here yet.” Seungcheol protests, dragging Jihoon down onto his lap before Jihoon has time to react, his mouth kissing Jihoon’s mouth, his cheek, his ear, sloppy and happy and affectionate.

He bows his head to kiss Jihoon’s neck, biting gently while he works his fly open, his zipper down. He doesn’t fuck around with Jihoon’s underwear, just jams his hand between Jihoon’s stomach and the elastic waistband, and then he’s got Jihoon’s cock in his callused grip and—

“Wait…You came already?” he asks, less jerking Jihoon off and more just feeling him up, “When?”

Jihoon is kind of amazed he can spare the blood to blush, but he feels his cheeks heat up. 

“I—I don’t really remember.” He murmurs, realising with a shock that he _doesn’t_. The last ten minutes are all kind of a sexy, hot exciting blur now, but there’s an unmistakable stickiness between his thighs that says he came in his pants.

Completely untouched. Just from sucking someone’s _dick_.

The slightest smugness plays across Seungcheol’s face as Jihoon helplessly looks on.

“You’re a little bit of a slut for my dick, huh Peanut?”

Jihoon strongly considers pouting at him. Somehow, he ends up whining something embarrassed instead, and hiding his face in Seungcheol’s neck.

* * *

Jihoon thinks he’s very good at keeping secrets. At least, when it comes to _other_ people’s secrets. Keeping his _own_ secret is a lot harder he’s recently discovered, and it’s definitely a lot less fun when your every movement is potentially subject to the scrutiny of four hundred employees who thrive on gossip. Every conversation becomes a balancing act; he can't do or say anything for fear that it will come back to haunt him later, and he can’t help but wonder if every look he gets is from someone who _knows_ something.

Like Wonwoo for instance, who gives him a sly little smile as he steps into the elevator on the 4th floor and keeps right on smiling _all_ the way to the 30th floor, where he finally steps out. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even wink, but there’s _something_ about that smile that spells ‘I know what you did last summer’ clear as day and Jihoon can’t help but panic a little.

Okay, maybe he panics a lot. And maybe he locks himself in the storage room for five minutes and hyperventilates into a brown paper bag. But he thinks he could be excused for freaking out, because Wonwoo _smiled_ at him and Mr Jeon almost _never_ smiles.

“I can’t be sure, but—but I think Wonwoo _knows_ about us.” Jihoon announces, when he finally summons the courage to return to Seungcheol’s office.

If he sounds the tiniest bit strung out, he figures he deserves it.

Seungcheol, for his part, doesn’t freak out like Jihoon expects. Which is a relief. Instead, he seems slightly distant and supremely business-like as he sets his notepad down on the desk, raising an eyebrow at Jihoon's agitated state.

“Yeah, I figured. It sure would explain the disturbing email he sent me.”

“An email? Oh no!” Jihoon gasps, rounding the desk quickly to take a peek. He’s expecting something awful; harsh, reprimanding words directed at Seungcheol’s character, or even threats of _blackmail_. He is _not_ expecting:

From: [jeonwonwoo@choicorp.com]

Subject: [VERY IMPORTANT PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE]

To: [choiseungcheol@choicorp.com]

Attached:  A Jihoon is not just for Christman AO3.doc (9 KB)  catlol.gif (70 KB)  morecatlols.xyz (5 MB) 

Hello fellow Cat/kitten owner.

I hear you’re embarking on the very exciting and fulfilling experience of owning a cat/kitten, and as a fellow Feline friend myself, I have compiled some useful hints and tips that have helped me care for my cat companions throughout the years.

1\. Provide plenty of companionship. Despite what you may think, and how they might behave, cats don’t like to be alone ☹

2\. Provide them with nutritious and delicious meals and a constant supply of fresh water.

3\. Ensure they have a clean and comfortable bed. The fluffier the better. But remember—all surfaces now belong to the cat, and all surfaces are beds. You must accept this.

4\. Groom and pet your cat/kitten regularly. Even if they’re perfectly capable of grooming themselves and seem quite content, petting them and giving them a little scratchy scratch behind the ears is very important. It helps you form a strong emotional bond and is quite soothing. Also—purrs 😊

I could go on, but instead I will draw your attention to the following articles that I have found most helpful. Yes, they were all written by me.

➥Love thy cat.

➥How many cats is too many cats?

➥There is no such thing as a bad cat. If anyone has to change, it’s you.

➥My cat is trying to kill me—it’s likelier than you think.

➥Toe Beans: to squish, or not to squish?

Let me know if you need any more advice!

Jihoon blinks at the email, that turns his head to squint at Seungcheol uncomprehendingly. “I don’t get it. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, I think it makes perfect sense Kitten,” Seungcheol smiles, reaching up to cup his cheek, thumb slipping back and forth over the swell of his cheekbone. He follows that up with a boop on the nose, then a little scritchy-scratch behind the ears, then straight up tugs Jihoon down to sit on his lap.

Jihoon goes willingly, sighing happily with each comforting stroke of Seungcheol’s thumb at his nape, because though it might not be very professional, he could really use a cuddle right now and Seungcheol really is the _best_ cuddler. When he squeezes Jihoon in his arms, he exerts _just_ the right amount of pressure to make him feel warm and loved, and when Jihoon tucks his head under his chin, he feels so safe he immediately forgets all about the people who could be gossiping about them a couple of flights down.

That is, until…

“Uh, hello?” comes a question in a tentative voice, and Jihoon and Seungcheol turn their heads in unison to find Vernon standing by the doorway, watching them from the other side of the room. His eyes aren't confused or curious or even squinty. They're wide open and entirely too knowing.

An eloquent string of curses erupts from Seungcheol as he stands abruptly. He would have dropped Jihoon right on the floor had Jihoon not already reached panic stations five seconds earlier and scrambled out of his lap. 

“Uhm, Hi Vernon,” Jihoon laughs awkwardly, “What, uh—what are you doing up here?”

“I came to fix...something,” Vernon sounds vaguely disconcerted, as though he has forgotten where he is all of a sudden. His eyes dart around the room awkwardly, before he turns to them with an uncharacteristically guarded look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Should I come back another time?”

A knot tightens in Jihoon's stomach, because he's not used to Vernon looking like that around him. But before he can open his mouth, Seungcheol clears his throat and cuts in smoothly.

“No, it’s fine. Stay. Fix whatever it is you came to fix. I—uh, I have a meeting to go to.” He says, grabbing his jacket. He heads towards the door, apparently completely unruffled by the whole situation, except for the look he shoots Jihoon over his shoulder that can only be described as 😬

Quick as that Seungcheol is gone, and Jihoon finds himself alone with Vernon in the office, feeling a whole new level of awkward. If Vernon suspects something though (how could he not—Jihoon had been sitting in Seungcheol’s lap enjoying a nice petting) he does an amazing job of keeping his cool. He just gets down to work, rebooting the computer and running some diagnostics.

Jihoon watches him work from the side-lines awkwardly, wondering what, if anything, he is supposed to say. Wondering even harder if Vernon is susceptible to the concept of bribery with cookies. Luckily, he is saved from having to do anything at all when Vernon pokes his head up from under the desk and says, “I won’t tell anyone Jihoonie, you don’t have to worry.”

Jihoon blows a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. “Oh thank god,” He shifts his weight anxiously, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Thanks Vernon, I really appreciate it.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Vernon says, speaking in a lower tone now, tentative and cautious. “Men like Mr Choi are really powerful—they’re used to getting what they want, whether someone likes it or not. Maybe you feel pretty happy about your _arrangement_ now, but if in the future you change your mind, or he changes his, he could make things really _nasty_ for you.”

Jihoon shoots a disbelieving glance in Vernon's direction, but the guys looks genuinely concerned and honestly, Jihoon's not sure whether to be flattered or irritated.

“It’s not like that, it’s not like that at all. We don’t have any kind of ‘arrangement’. It’s a _relationship_. He loves me, and I love him.”

The twist of Vernon’s mouth makes it clear he doesn’t believe a _word_ Jihoon is saying.

“It’s _true_.” Jihoon huffs, employing his most irritated scowl. He doesn’t often scowl at people, but it’s hard to just stand by and let someone take the best thing that has ever happened to him and twist it into something unrecognizably ugly. Scowling is completely necessary under the circumstances.

Except it doesn’t seem to have much effect on Vernon, who just laughs and pats him patronizingly atop the head, “Listen, maybe I am wrong about Mr Choi, maybe he isn’t like all those other sleazy CEO’s out there who take advantage of their employees. I just can’t help but think that if he _really_ cared about your relationship, he would have reassigned you to another position so you guys wouldn’t have to tip toe around everyone. _That_ would have been the right thing to do.”

Jihoon pouts instead of admitting that is _exactly_ what Seungcheol tried to do, before Jihoon pulled the soulful kitten eyes on him to tug on his heart strings. He’s already gotten one lecture from Seokmin about it today, he can’t handle one from Vernon too.

* * *

Seungcheol has made it a habit to catch the elevator _just_ as the doors begin to close; it’s great for keeping people on their toes and the genuine fear that flashes in his employees eyes when the doors slide open again and _he’s_ there, amuses him to no end.

It doesn’t seem to be working as well today though, and he’s a little perturbed by the chorus of ‘Hello Mr Choi’ that greets him as he steps inside. That everyone seems to be _smiling_ at him too is also rather peculiar, but he chooses not to overanalyse it. Fear makes people behave in strange ways, and having people who would _usually_ recoil in fear smile at him for a change isn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.

The same cannot be said about the heads of department, who decide it’s okay to smile at him too, only their smiling seems to be laden with far more _intent_. They’re smiling at him like he’s done something wonderful, like he’s given them all fat bonuses and ended world hunger while he was at it.

Seungcheol’s never seen so many toothy grins directed at him before, and now he kind of wishes he hadn’t.

Even Gong Yoo, the afraid-of-his-own-shadow Marketing Head, comes up to “chat” to him before the meeting starts, smiling so wide that Seungcheol actually worries about the structural integrity of the man’s face. If that isn’t weird enough, he then proceeds to show Seungcheol pictures of his pet Cockatoo, Pepper, even though Seungcheol didn’t _ask_ and definitely doesn’t care, but apparently it’s something Gong Yoo is comfortable _doing_ with him now?

Seungcheol can’t write that off as business as usual. 

Thankfully, it seems to be a one-off freak occurrence. Nobody else attempts to get friendly, or tries to hug him, and when the meeting starts, the smiles seem to die down too.

It’s not till the end of the meeting, when everyone’s clearing out, that Jisoo approaches him, appearing out of nowhere to stand beside his seat.

“So,” he says, in a great helpless gust of air that’s trying to be casual and missing by a mile, “That was kind of weird. Seems like you’ve made quite the _impression_ on everyone.”

Seungcheol arches an eyebrow. “I _have_?”

Jisoo nods, “Word gets around fast. You’re ‘Mister Approachable’ in everyone’s eyes now. Soon everyone’s going to be stopping you in the corridors for a quick chat and showing you pictures of their nearest and dearest.”

Seungcheol blinks, completely thrown for a handful of seconds. “I don’t get it—what did I do?”

“Jihoon.” Jisoo answers, without missing a beat.

“I—” Seungcheol splutters. “Wait—what?”

The corners of Jisoo’s mouth turn up smugly. “Incidentally, have you had a chance to read the email I sent you this morning?”

His tone is deliberately light, a familiar slide into easy humour, but Seungcheol can see the sombre intensity in his eyes, a reminder of what he’s been side stepping all day. It’s like cold water in the face, and Seungcheol’s draws away, jaw tightening.

“No, I haven’t had the time. I’ve—”

“Been busy, yes, I know,” Jisoo says briskly. “But perhaps you should _make_ time, Seungcheol. The contents of that email should be read before you make any _rash_ decisions.”

“I’ll get to it when I get to it,” Seungcheol grunts, making sure his glare is harsh enough to forestall further conversation as he leaves the conference room.

Out into the corridor, the smiling, disturbingly, seems to pick right back up again. Seungcheol gets a further three smiles from employees who would usually scatter when he stalks the corridors, and even a thumbs up from a security guard Seungcheol is almost hundred percent certain keyed his Porsche once. Then, when he has a head on collision with a hapless clerk juggling a stack of folders, because he’s so busy being paranoid over his shoulder, the guy doesn’t even fluster or stammer or offer to commit seppuku on the spot. He just gasps as Seungcheol bends down to help collect his folders and whispers, “Oh god, the rumours are true!”

Before Seungcheol can figure out what that means, the guy is collecting his folders and bowing, disappearing into one of the side rooms with a big grin on his face.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” Seungcheol mumbles under his breath.

He wonders if he’s somehow managed to stumble into an alternate reality—one where he’s still CEO of Choi Corp, except he jumped into a river to rescue a puppy or something, and now everyone thinks he’s awesome.

That, as farfetched as it is, would certainly explain all the smiling. 

Currently, _nothing_ explains all the smiling.

Seungcheol does not enjoy unwarranted smiling.

Shaking his head to clear it, he takes the corridor leading to the stairwell. He needs to piss like a racehorse, but since there’s a queue for the elevator and since he’s trying to avert any more _smiling_ incidents, he takes the stairs down a level to the lobby bathrooms instead. They’re empty thankfully, save for a single man washing his hands at the sink who scurries out quickly as Seungcheol enters.

Not before _smiling_ at him of course.

Seungcheol waits till he’s sure he’s alone before glancing in one of the mirrors, just to make sure Jihoon hasn’t Sharpied _‘Smile at me’_ on his forehead or something, then moves over to the urinal furthest from the door to do his business.

He’s so busy replaying all the weirdness in his head, that it takes him a moment to realise someone has entered the bathroom and is now walking past the numerous empty stalls and urinals towards him. He can hear the footsteps on the tiles, too heavy to be casual, too slow to be official. They come to a stop suddenly, somewhere nearby, but there’s no accompanying sound of a zipper or rushing water.

Whoever it is just stands there quietly, watching him, which either means he’s piss shy or a fucking pervert.

Either way, Seungcheol’s about five seconds away from knocking their teeth in. 

He finishes his business quickly, composing an inter-office memo in his head about 21st century bathroom etiquette, but before he has any chance to turn his head or break the silence himself, the guy speaks in a rush.

“You better treat him right Choi.”

Seungcheol blinks, surprised at this apparent non-sequitur.

“ _Excuse_ me?” He says in his stern voice, the one that makes his employees jump. 

The man isn’t rattled though. He leans in closer, lowers his voice, urgently. “I _said_ , you better treat him right. Or else.”

It sounds like he’s speaking through his teeth, voice flat but fierce, like he’s angry about something and has every right to be. And doesn’t that just brass Seungcheol right off.

If _anyone_ has the right to be pissed off right now, Seungcheol thinks, it’s him.

“Treat _who_ right?,” He snarls, turning his head, “Who the hell _are_ you—"

“Don’t turn around,” The man interjects, nudging a blunt _something_ in his back. “I have a gun.”

Seungcheol breathes out a sigh of immense relief, “Oh thank fuck—I thought that was your dick. I thought I was going to have to beat the ever-loving shit out of you.”

The man makes a horrified sound.

“What? Ew, no—no. Why the hell would I poke you with my dick?”

Seungcheol just shrugs, “Same reason you were watching me piss obviously, cause you’re a fucking _pervert_.”

The guy makes a rude noise and taps the floor with his shoe. “I was _not_ watching you piss. I was waiting for you to finish so we could talk.”

“At gun point?” Seungcheol asks dubiously, zipping himself up. “Come to think of it, that doesn’t really _feel_ like a gun.”

The man doesn’t react for a moment but Seungcheol can hear him shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

“I assure you it is. It’s a very big gun.”

It takes real discipline to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “What _kind_ of gun?”

The guy grumbles something behind him, then sighs. “It’s a pistol. A shiny one. With lots and lots of bullets.”

Seungcheol huffs out a humourless laugh. “It’s a banana isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not, it’s a gun.” The man says tersely.

“It’s definitely a banana.”

“It’s a gun!”

“Banana.”

“Will you _stop_ saying that—"

“Or what? You’re gonna need more than a banana to threaten me pal.”

The man sighs heavily, exasperated, “Look, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to talk. About _Jihoon_.”

Seungcheol’s posture stiffens. The strangeness of the whole afternoon begins to hover there, just at the periphery of his awareness, like a connect-the-dots image that's not quite coming together. 

“What about him?” He asks, willing his fists to unclench.

He can hear the man fidgeting behind him, the mask of casual surety faltering. 

“You might not think this is any of my business, and neither does Jihoon probably, but I’m making it my business okay. Because Jihoon—Jihoon is a really sweet guy, and a jerk like you doesn’t deserve him, but he obviously sees something in you and is willing to take a risk. I have no choice but to accept that, but if you _ever_ hurt him, I’m going to make sure you regret it.”

A sharp bark of hysterical laughter bursts from Seungcheol’s mouth before he can stop it, prompting the guy to nudge the banana (yeah it’s definitely a banana) against his back.

“Hey—there’s nothing funny about this jerk-wad, I’m deadly seriously.”

“No, you’re right—and your concern if very admirable,” Seungcheol says, deciding to overlook that fact that the guy has chosen to accost him in the bathrooms, with a banana, that he’s standing at _just_ the right angle to stay out of Seungcheol’s peripheral vision. “I’m just surprised you think I’m even capable of that. I know I’m not the friendliest of people, but I would _never_ hurt Jihoon. Ever. I…I love him.”

The sharp intake of breath suggests he’s taken the guy by surprise. Seungcheol’s a little surprised himself actually—declaring his undying love for his PA to a veritable stranger in the Choi Corp bathrooms is …well, it’s not something he’d could foresee ever happening. Even puppy-rescuing Alternate Reality Seungcheol would probably be eyeballing him right now.

"G-good," the man finally says, sounding a little shaken, and a beat later, "Glad to hear it," and another pause goes by before he adds, "I guess we’re finished here, so I’m going to step away and you can turn around after I leave."

Seungcheol snorts, “Why? Fraid I’m going to find out who you are and have you _fired_?”

The man exhales flat laughter. “Uh— _yeah_. I like my job, and I’m really good at it too, and I don’t think I should get fired because I want to look out for someone I care about.”

“Fair enough,” Seungcheol shrugs, “But you know I’ll figure out who you are eventually.”

The guy snorts, “I highly doubt it. Unlike you, I earn the respect of my peers, not command it. Nobody would ever rat me out, even if—"

Just then, the sound of the door smacking against the wall ricochets throughout the room and Seungcheol turns his head in time to see a young man round the corner. He’s whistling loudly as he works on his belt buckle, but tapers off awkwardly when he spots them.

“Uh, hey Junhui. What are you doing to Mr Choi with that banana?”

“God dammit Soonyoung! Why’d you have to say my name!” Junhui snarls, lunging towards the door.

Seungcheol gets a brief glimpse of the banana and the man’s horror-stricken face as he sprints out of the bathrooms, dragging the other man out with him.

* * *

"So…I heard a rumour."

Jihoon gulps without looking up from the papers he is pretending to organize and resists the urge to crawl under the desk.

He’d only stopped by the photocopying room for a few minutes, but he’s already gotten weird looks from three different people he’s never met before, and now it seems Choon-Hee's taken it upon herself to _grill_ him.

Which can only mean one thing.

Vernon has _clearly_ said something to someone. Or maybe Seungkwan did, or Mingyu, or hell, maybe Seungcheol himself announced it in the corporate newsletter. But it doesn’t really matter who let it slip: in a building where the walls have eyes, ears, and an NSFW fanfiction club dedicated to the CEO himself, word about the changing _nature_ of his relationship with Seungcheol was bound to get out eventually.

Jihoon just hadn’t expected the rumours to start flying so soon. It’s only 4pm for crying out loud. But maybe it was naïve to think his secret would remain safe from the likes of Choon-Hee. The woman has a gossiping network calibrated like a spider's web. Actually, a spider could learn a thing or two from Choon-Hee, even one of those freakishly huge, South American ones with the webs that could strangle a leopard.

“Rumour? What rumour?” Jihoon says, busying himself with the stapler, deliberately keeping his head down.

Choon-Hee’s forehead creases, “You know, about Mr Choi.”

“W-what about him?” Jihoon asks, attempting to play dumb.

It’s pointless of course; he’s horrified to feel his ears getting warm even though there’s actually zero innuendo in Choon-Hee’s tone, her words. For some reason, the conscious lack of insinuation in her voice makes it sound even _more_ insinuating. Or maybe just the mention of Seungcheol is enough to send Jihoon’s heart a flutter. _Fuck_.

Choon-Hee looks quizzically at him, tilting her head. Her eyes are even huger than normal, dark-lined around and around, lashes sticky black with mascara. It’s like being interrogated by an anime character.

"Okay, fine, you probably don’t feel comfortable talking about it. I get that. But I just wanted you to know I’m beginning to see Mr Choi in a whole new light. You were right, he’s clearly not the asshole he paints himself to be."

Jihoon processes that for a moment and then smiles slightly, although blushing at the same time, “That’s…nice. W-what made you change your mind?”

Choon-Hee regards him patiently, “Well, he clearly _cares_ a lot about you if he’s willing to kick up a dust storm on your behalf. I mean, I don’t think a lot CEO’s would put themselves in that kind of situation willingly. Usually they’d just look the other way and claim it’s none of their business, but not him. He’s kind of a bad ass actually.”

“Yeah, I guess he is.” Jihoon observes, scratching his head in mild confusion. “Uhm, how did you find out?” He asks, skin itching with how badly he doesn't want to know.

“Oh everyone’s been taking about it.” Choon-Hee waves him off with a laugh, like it’s no big deal. 

But it _is_ a big deal. It’s a _huge_ deal.

The thought alone chills Jihoon's insides, and it takes him a moment to find his voice. “E-everyone?”

“Yep, pretty much the whole building. You can blame Mr Park for that—he was telling his secretary all about it this morning apparently, and naturally someone overheard and told someone else. It’s a good thing you didn’t come down for lunch today because there was quite the buzz in the canteen earlier; everyone was talking about it and giving their own version of events even though most of them had only heard it from a third party. I wasn’t sure what to believe at first, but then I bumped into Mr Park’s secretary in the corridor and she confirmed what he told her.”

“Mr Park,” Jihoon frowns, a little bewildered, “The accounts manager?”

Choon-Hee nods absently, “Yeah, that’s him. Apparently he was one of the guests at Mr Choi’s party.”

Jihoon shakes his head. Not because it isn’t true, but because he doesn’t see the connection.

“This doesn’t make any sense—how did _he_ find out we’re dating?”

Choon-Hee blinks at him uncomprehendingly, then rears back to look at him, arching a single meaningful eyebrow.

Jihoon knows that look. He doesn’t _like_ that look. Choon-Hee looks scandalized, like they’re suddenly talking about something completely different.

“W-wait a minute. You are, you and Mr Choi are—” She stops, unable to even say the words.

Jihoon flounders, mouth gaping, “Isn’t—isn’t that what this whole conversation was about?”

“ _No_ ,” Choon-Hee’s voice climbs up the octave. “I was talking about how Mr Choi confronted a waiter that was harassing you at his Birthday Party, how he kicked him out and got him fired for getting handsy with you.”

“O-oh.” Jihoon murmurs, feeling the slow heat of blood creeping into his face.

Choon-Hee stares at him, her eyes widening, conveying a mix of sudden understanding and bafflement.

“Oh shit,” Her voice rises, a little hysterically. “So you’re actually _dating_ Mr Choi?”

Jihoon flails his hands, attempting to shush her quickly, but it’s already too late.

Behind him, there's a faint round of gasps—soft and amused, and when he turns around, the small group of clerks loitering around a cubicle have stopped what they’re doing to _stare_ at him. Jaws have actually dropped. Then each one of them turns and whispers something to someone else, who in turn spread that whisper again, and again, and again, until it’s rolling out like a wave over the entire room.

The moment has the same feeling, the same texture as every nightmare Jihoon’s ever had. Time seems to move so slowly, and he can clearly see the danger ahead. But he just can’t seem to change course, can’t pinch himself awake, can’t make it _stop_.

Abandoning his papers, he makes a beeline for the exit, his heart pounding hard against his chest. His head feels thick, like it’s stuffed with cotton wool. The room is starting to spin, and his stomach isn’t quite as steady as it ought to be.

“Don’t panic,” he tells himself under his breath. “Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.”

But he can’t help it. _Everyone_ is looking at him now, and not just with those cursory glances you can’t help but give when someone passes your line of vision, but full on head-swivelling stares, like there’s suddenly something very fascinating about him.

_Oh no, what have I done_ , he thinks, rushing down the corridor, no destination in mind, nothing but the need to be somewhere that isn't _here_ , to crumble into a foetal ball and wait for the throbbing, pulsing panic to subside.

He thinks about how everything will have to change now. How he'll never get to make Seungcheol his smiley foam faced latte in the morning again, that he won’t be able to look up and see Seungcheol smiling at him from across the room, or fill with happiness when Seungcheol eats one of his tray bakes and dissolves into raptures.

There will be no more nose booping, or head pats, or cute nicknames. Jihoon will have to find a new job as someone else’s PA, and Seungcheol will hire someone else to take his place—a mean PA who will probably hate Jihoon’s guts and never give Seungcheol his messages. He’ll become the new Peanut—a better, smarter, more efficient Peanut. Maybe even an _evil_ Peanut. And he’ll steal all of Jihoon’s sweater vests and cute highlighters for himself, and Seungcheol will forget all about Jihoon and move on, and—and—

“Jihoon honey? What’s wrong? You’re not making any sense.”

Jihoon wipes the tears from his eyes and finds he’s somehow made his way to the janitors closet, and is standing in the dark on the phone to his mother. 

“Oh mom,” he sobs, “I’ve done something so stupid.”

* * *

Seungcheol checks his watch and contemplates just hanging up on his Father. Normally he can tolerate their monthly tête-à-tête, but today his father seems to be in one of his wisdom-bestowing moods and is talking about something so intensely boring Seungcheol’s mostly preoccupied with trying not to let his brains dribble out of his ears while wondering where Jihoon has disappeared to.

His little Peanut went off to photocopy some documents over an hour ago and has yet to return, and Seungcheol can’t help but worry if he’s gotten trapped in the elevator again. It operates on weight detection, and sometimes doesn’t register an occupant as small as Jihoon ☹

Thankfully he doesn’t have to send out a search party, because he’s just finishing his call when the office door swings open and Jihoon comes shuffling into the room, holding an empty cardboard box.

“Hey Peanut,” Seungcheol grins, rising from his seat, “I hate to break this to you, but I don’t think you’ll fit in that box. Don’t worry though, I’m sure I can find you a nice warm box to nap in when I take you home.”

The joke seems to be lost on Jihoon, who just sets the box down and stares at it, stricken. “I—I suppose I should tell you now, you’re bound to find out soon enough.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Seungcheol, drawing the word out as concern multiples exponentially in his mind. And now that’s he’s stepping closer he can see the puffiness in Jihoon’s eyes, can hear him sniffling. His little Peanut isn't crying, not presently, but he looks like he has been and will do so again, given the slightest prompt.

“Aw hey Kitten, what’s wrong?”

A tear slips down Jihoon's cheek as he shakes his head, “I messed up. I—I accidentally told everyone in the photocopy room we’re dating.”

Seungcheol lets his eyes widen a little, more for dramatic effect than any real surprise. He is in no way surprised that their secret is out of course. He has in fact, been anticipating this news all day because while _he_ is capable of villainous levels of deceit and misdirection, he always knew Jihoon would struggle.

Jihoon’s always been an honest little Peanut, with an expressive little face that’s like a mile-high billboard screaming exactly what he thinks at all times of the day. There isn’t much filter between what goes on his brain and what comes out of his mouth, and if Seungcheol’s surprised about anything, it’s that he’s managed to keep their relationship a secret nearly a full _day_.

Poor little Peanut—he probably tried so hard too.

“Please don’t be angry with me Seungcheol,” Jihoon sobs, obviously misinterpreting his contemplative silence for something else. “I didn’t mean to do it, I just went to the photocopy room to collect some papers and—” He begins sniffling in earnest, and then: “ _Meow meow mew meow meow meow mew meow meow meow mew meow meow—"_

And now he’s just meowing, and incomprehensibly too. There are no words, only meows. Sad, hiccupping little meows that are breaking Seungcheol’s heart, even though he doesn’t understand a single word of what Jihoon’s trying to say. 

He tries in vain to calm Jihoon down, even gives him a little scritchy scratch behind the ears, but Jihoon just meows _louder_ , inconsolable.

When Seungcheol hears the knock at the office door, for a moment he thinks he's imagined it, or at least, he hopes so.

No such luck, though; there's not even time for a quick 'Fuck off!' before the door is swinging open and Jisoo’s head pokes through.

Seungcheol regards him coldly. “Jisoo, now’s _really_ not the best time.”

He suspects his level of annoyance is lost on Jisoo, who proceeds to step into the office anyway and holds the door open, “I’m afraid it’s rather urgent. Do you mind giving us a moment Jihoon, this won’t take long.”

Seungcheol grits his teeth against his mounting frustration, but Jihoon is already making a move towards the door, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast like he’s been grounded and sent to his _room_. 

For a moment, all Seungcheol wants to do is drag him into a hug and tell him everything’s going to be okay—that he doesn’t give a shit about his job or his reputation, that he’ll happily surrender it all for him. But then Jisoo’s blocking his view and pushing the door shut behind him, pitching his voice low and conciliatory, “This really is important Seungcheol.” 

Gritting his teeth, Seungcheol buttons his suit jacket and takes a few steps away from Jisoo before he does something he will regret (from a paperwork point of view, if nothing else).

“Okay, fine, what can I do for you Jisoo?” He tries to regain an ounce of professionalism, though his tone is dry and resigned.

Jisoo, as usual, takes it in his stride. He eyes the chairs in front of Seungcheol’s desk, then circumvents them to round the desk instead and perch on the edge, scattering pens and several dozen important files across the surface.

“I was wondering if you _finally_ got a chance to read my email from this morning.”

Seungcheol throws up his hands in frustration. Okay, time to change tack, he thinks. Clearly the only way to get past this conversation is to _have_ it first. He throws himself down in the chair and looks Jisoo square in the eyes.

“No, Jisoo, I haven’t, but I am familiar with the HR policy, so you don’t have to beat me over the head with it. I’m dating an employee when I shouldn’t be, and now apparently everyone knows and I’m in deep shit. I must act quickly to demonstrate my commitment to the company or resign, yadda yadda yadda. I get it okay—you’ll have my resignation on your desk by tomorrow morning. Happy?”

Casually, Jisoo reaches over to pick up a paperweight, “Perhaps you should actually take a moment to _read_ the email I sent you first.” He says, slowly, as if Seungcheol’s slow to catch on to things, and maybe he is.

Seungcheol blinks awkwardly, but grudgingly pulls his laptop closer to check his emails.

The email Jisoo sent this morning is sitting unread near the bottom of his inbox, and Seungcheol quickly scrolls all the way down to retrieve it. The attachment that had filled him with dread earlier is actually much smaller than he anticipated; not the entire Choi Corp fraternization policy word for word, but merely a brief summary of amendments made to the original document.

Seungcheol takes a moment to skim the details, then sits back in his seat, feeling like he’d just been sucker punched.

“You _amended_ it?”

Jisoo looks bemused by Seungcheol’s reaction, but remains otherwise unmoved. “Yes, several months ago, when I suspected _this_ relationship with your PA would become an issue. I thought it wise to have our bases covered, and unlike you, I happen to think long term.”

Seungcheol can only stare. He was expecting to get cautioned, to get chewed out, to spend the rest of his evening typing out his resignation to the board. He’s completely unprepared for this.

“Why would you do that?”

Jisoo shrugs, looking suddenly uncertain, “Because I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without incriminating yourself in the process. And as the HR manager I _do_ have the capacity to make adjustments to the policy which I deem outdated and unfit for purpose.”

Seungcheol shakes his head decisively. He can see the strategy in it, but he just can’t understand Jisoo’s motivations. “No, I mean—why bother. Why do you even care?”

To his surprise, Jisoo recoils a little, as if he’s been hit. 

“Because you’re my _friend_? We’ve known each other for almost a decade Seungcheol, and I’d like to think we look out for each other. And despite what you might believe, I actually think you’re a very good CEO, and I don’t feel it’s fair that you should be forced to resign over a few _irregularities_ in your private life.”

Seungcheol suddenly finds it hard to swallow. He opens his mouth to retort, then realizes this isn't the salient point. 

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

Jisoo presses his lips together and sighs shortly. “Because I also didn’t want to _encourage_ you Seungcheol. Even with the policy amended, many people would frown on the idea of a CEO dating one of his employees. Especially his own PA. There’s still a potential for favouritism.”

Seungcheol looks at him, confused, “I don’t get it. You just made it possible for me to have a relationship with my PA without repercussions, but you don’t _approve_ of that relationship?”

Jisoo bounces his head, midway between yes and no. “I didn’t approve, at first,” he amends amiably enough. “But that’s because I thought it was purely lustful and likely to cause significant damage to the company’s reputation. Then I started to realise there was more to it than that; you clearly care for Jihoon, and he clearly _adores_ you, and his presence as your PA has actually improved your image amongst the employees, and since he became chairman of the CCCC, productivity has tripled in all departments, so even if I wanted to argue your relationship is damaging for morale, I wouldn’t really have a leg to stand on.”

It’s twice in one conversation that Seungcheol jaw has dropped, and Jisoo looks rather pleased with himself. 

“You’re still on shaky ground with the board, of course,” He continues, spinning the paperweight with his hand, “They’re traditionalists and the policy changes were only approved by a slim margin, but I think you should be safe enough to continue, as long as you don’t go around, you know, rubbing it in their faces.” He drawls, his lips twitching in what is almost a smile.

Seungcheol blushes with confusion first and understanding second, nodding his head through it all.

“Right. Of course. Ah, I think we can manage that.”

Jisoo nods back, then he notices the time and straightens slightly. "Look, I have to get going. I have uhm, dinner plans."

"Me too," Seungcheol replies, standing. He follows Jisoo to the door in silence, not quite capable of voicing his gratitude.

Opening the office door, Jisoo pauses at the threshold to squint at something. Seungcheol tilts his head and follows his gaze to where Jihoon is hovering at the bottom of the corridor, just out of hearing range. Jihoon’s face is comically screwed up, brows pinched and lips pursed in an expression of intense concentration, but Seungcheol knows better that to believe that. He’s worked with his little Peanut long enough to know that’s just the face he pulls when he’s trying to hold back on a very public meltdown.

Bless him. 

“Why does he look so sad?”

Seungcheol can feel a laugh tugging at his mouth, and he fights it fiercely. “He thinks you’ve come to _rehome_ him.”

Jisoo's expression melts just for a moment, into disbelieving fondness as he regards Jihoon. It's an expression Seungcheol knows well. He's worn it often enough himself.

When Jisoo's attention returns to him, it's with all the blank composure of a moment before, and Seungcheol feels his spine straighten in answer.

“I’ll let you tell him the good news, but please, for the love of god don’t have celebratory sex in your office. The windows may be tinted, but at the right angle people can still see in.”

“Oh shit, they _can_?” Seungcheol chokes out, before realising he should probably be downplaying his reaction. “I mean, uhm, good for them. They’re welcome to look all they want. I have nothing to hide. It’s not like I would be stupid enough to let my PA blow me on the couch during my lunch hour or something.”

Judging by the purified laser of disapproval Jisoo levels at him, he hasn’t _quite_ managed to squeeze his way around the truth this time.

Yeah… probably should have just _not_ mentioned the blow job at all. Even though it was hot.

* * *

After Jisoo leaves, Jihoon shuffles back into the office, gaze fixed firmly to the floor. He doesn’t look up once as he pushes the door shut behind him, just walks right up into Seungcheol’s space with his head bowed, like a man resigned to some terribly tragic fate. 

“I got you in trouble, didn’t I?”

“No, Peanut, you didn’t,” Seungcheol chuckles. He sets his hands on Jihoon's shoulders and drops a kiss to the top of his head. “Nobody’s in trouble.”

Jihoon sniffs, impatient with his tears. “You don’t have to sugar coat it for me Seungcheol. I know I messed up, and now Mr Hong says I can’t be your PA anymore. Just tell me the truth. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” He says in a choked voice.

Seungcheol frames Jihoon's beautiful face between his hands, nudging him up to make eye contact, holding him there with earnest intensity. “I am telling you the truth Peanut. Nobody’s in trouble, and you can be my PA for as long as you like.”

Jihoon makes an unintelligible noise of happiness. “R-really? Even though so many people know now, and it’s mostly my fault?”

Seungcheol nods, “Mr Hong made changes to the HR policy that will afford us some leeway. We’ll be okay as long as we aren’t inappropriately _demonstrative_ about our relationship.”

Jihoon’s smile is immediate and blinding—though it fractures a little the longer he holds it.

“Wait…what constitutes _demonstrative_?”

“Well, I imagine pretty much everything we did during lunch.” Seungcheol smirks, brushing the back of his fingers against the heat of Jihoon's cheek

“Oh, right.” Jihoon bites his lip and blushes, abruptly going shy. “We have to be more careful.”

Seungcheol laughs softly, “Yes, but we don’t have to keep it a secret. And off the clock, what we do together, that’s our own business.”

Jihoon’s eyes twinkle. “So…would it be okay if we left together tonight?”

“I was planning on it. What would you like to do?” Seungcheol asks, capturing Jihoon’s fingers, kissing the tips. “You want to go out for dinner? Cause I know this great little place not far from my apartment. Or we could order in and relax back at my place. It’s up to you.”

Jihoon smiles, sunny and sweet, “I think I prefer the second idea more. It would be nice to spend time together without anyone eavesdropping. Just the two of us. We could cuddle up by the fire, and watch a movie and—and I already brought something _special_ for dessert.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows shift interrogatively. “Oh yeah? What?”

Jihoon looks uncertain for a moment, trapping his lower lip between his teeth and chewing on it in a nervous gesture, like maybe he's about to suggest something he's not too comfortable with. Then he leans up to murmur something in Seungcheol’s ear.

“ _My cosplay wands_.” He says, nearly in a whisper, a voice meant for sharing secrets.

Seungcheol inhales sharply, because that is absolutely totally the most shocking thing Jihoon has ever said, for the couple of seconds it takes before he adds, "And I want you to use both of them on me _at the same time_.”

Seungcheol’s proud to say he’s a total stoic professional about it for exactly three seconds.

Then, _then_ he actually has to reach up to loosen his tie because he’s becoming alarmingly short of breath. He might start wheezing a little—no, no, correction—he’s _definitely_ wheezing now. He can feel the blood pounding in his temples. His throat is dry, and really, there isn’t anything to say to that except an emphatic, “What the hell are we waiting for, lets go!” 


End file.
